


Lakota Falls

by Annehiggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love-at-first sight is supposed to be a myth. Even among Werewolves it's rare. It's also the last thing new Pack-leader Castiel wants to deal with. Worse, his instant-mate doesn't believe in it or his own self-worth. And all of that? It just might be the least of their problems. <strong>The following warnings apply:</strong> References past noncon due to mental manipulation (Dean/OMC); possible dubcon due to mating instincts; minor character deaths; Human-form Werewolf retains canine knot on penis, so knotting fic. Written for the DeanCas Big Bang on Live Journal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lakota Falls

**Author's Note:**

> First, my thanks to Baibaba for the great beta job! My muse gave me fits with this one and she worked really hard helping me get the job done! I honestly don't think I could have pulled this off without her!
> 
> As to the story, I wanted the intimacy of a small town, so I opted to move everyone and Singer Salvage to a place I called Lakota Falls. I used the same population as Mayberry (367) from the old _Andy Griffith Show_. I went for a 'species' versus 'curses' for supernatural beings and did not include angels or demons, which meant some 'reassigning.'
> 
> Character-wise I'm using guest stars from the show to fill in my supporting cast (helps me visualize, something I'm lousy at), but these are AU takes on them as well as the supernatural beings I use. Don't expect anything one way or another based on how they were used in the series. When part of a character's name wasn't available, I used the name of another character the actor has played to fill in the blank. Mary Sayles and Michael Jonathan Milligan are based on Young Mary and John Winchester. Mike is Adam's big brother in this story and neither is related to the Winchesters although they are both cousins of Cas et al.
> 
> Finally, I'm using an old Greek myth about the origins of Werewolves as the basis for my Weres' spirituality, so they worship the Greek Pantheon, and use Greek versus Roman references (example: Tartaros instead of Tartarus for hell.)

**22 Years Ago**

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Don't look back. Now, Dean! Go!" The only world Dean Winchester had ever known came to an end with those words ringing in his ears, his baby brother clutched in his arms and the choking stench of smoke.

Terrified, he obeyed and ran. He didn't stop running until he reached the porch of the house across the street. Screaming for help, he kicked at the front door with a doorbell too high to reach while he held Sammy. Lights came on and footsteps pounded down the stairs, but they weren't enough to block out the screams coming from his home. He couldn't stop himself from turning even though Daddy had told him not to look.

Flames leapt from their front door. Huge, moving outside to dance in the lawn only to fall and continue to burn. "Oh, my God," he heard behind him and somehow the horror in Mr. Henderson's voice let a four-year-old boy understand what he was seeing -- his parents burning to death.

Dean screamed and screamed. Screamed for his mommy and daddy. Screamed even louder when others tried to take his crying brother from him. Screamed until his Aunt Ellen leapt out of her car and ran over to sweep them both up into her arms. Only then did the screams turn into sobs, and finally silence. A very long silence.

*

Aunt Ellen took them to live with her. She wasn't really their aunt, but Dean had always called her that because Mrs. Harvelle didn't fit an Almost-Mommy. She'd grown up in the same little town with Mommy and had moved to Lawrence when Mommy and Daddy had. Her own husband had died five months before Sammy was born during what Daddy had said was some sort of hunting accident.

Dean remembered that night. Aunt Ellen had shown up on their doorstep, crying. Dean had crawled into her lap and held her all night even though it wasn't comfortable with her stomach swollen almost as much as Mommy's. Joanna Beth came a few months after Sammy and she'd be his sister soon because Aunt Ellen was going to adopt them.

Three months after Mommy and Daddy went away, crying woke up Dean. Jo, not Sammy this time. Dean looked after her just like Daddy had always said he should look after Sammy. He got out of bed and walked over to one of the two cradles. He had a little stool he could use to look down into them, but he didn't need it to see what was wrong. Somehow Mr. Muggles had fallen out onto the floor. He picked up the teddy bear and gave it back to her. She sniffed a couple of times, then quickly fell back asleep.

Dean decided he was thirsty and needed a drink so he padded down the hallway to the bathroom. The house was smaller than theirs had been and only one story. Aunt Ellen said they'd move soon and he could have his own room, but he liked being close to Jo and Sammy so he could keep an eye on them.

He heard voices and frowned. It was dark. No one should be here, should they? He moved quietly toward the kitchen and stopped just outside the doorway, his frown deepening. Mr. Zachariah was here. Dean didn't like him and knew Aunt Ellen felt the same, but had said he was a good lawyer and had done something Dean didn’t understand to help make things better after Uncle Bill's gun had exploded. Something involving a suit and money. But Dean had overheard enough to know the lawyer had gotten most of it.

"Be reasonable, Ellen," he was saying now. "You're a single mother with a baby of your own. You can't afford to care for two boys."

Aunt Ellen looked over her cup of coffee and glared at the man sitting on the other side of her table, but she didn't disagree. Dean would never forget that. For what seemed like forever to a small boy, she did not disagree. A cold terror gripped him and something inside him wanted to howl in grief.

"Sam's a white male infant. He'll be adopted by some nice couple within minutes," he said with a smile Daddy used to call ‘smarmy’.

"And Dean?" Her voice was quiet and low even for her.

"Damaged goods, I'm afraid, but some foster families like that sort of thing. He'll be taken care of."

"And separated from his brother."

He shrugged. "Sad fact of life, but you'll be able to go on with yours."

He reached for her hand, and she jerked away, then got to her feet. "Get the hell out of my house!"

"Now, Ellen," he said holding up his hands in a 'calm down' gesture, "you're letting your emotions get in the way. Your bar is failing and the settlement won't last forever especially with two more mouths to feed. You need to think of your own baby."

"You've got five seconds before I get the shotgun and fill your slimy ass full of buckshot."

He paled and backed away until he reached the door. "Call me when you're ready to see reason," he said, then escaped outside a moment before Aunt Ellen's coffee mug shattered against the doorframe.

"Damnit!" she shouted, then her head dropped and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Tears blinded Dean for a second, then began to spill. All his fault. He'd smelled the smoke, but had been too slow to wake up. Maybe if he hadn't tried to sleep for a few more seconds he could have warned Mommy in time so she wouldn't have gotten burned up and Daddy wouldn't have died trying to save her. Now he was hurting Aunt Ellen and Jo and Sammy. Was all dumb and broken and everyone made fun of him at daycare 'cause he couldn't talk and was in the way and different.

He watched her sink back down into her chair and bury her face in her hands. She was sad because of him. Couldn't take care of Sammy like Mommy had wanted because of him. He'd lost words because they hadn't made any difference. Hadn't saved anyone, and something inside of him had whispered to stay silent, stay out of the way. Hidden. But now he had reason to speak, to be seen and the tight knot in his throat finally loosened.

"Send … away," he said, making Aunt Ellen sit up with a jerk.

"Dean?"

"Keep … Sammy. … Rid of … me."

Her eyes widened, then she stood up and walked over to him. Dropping down on one knee, she took hold of his arms. "You heard all that, huh?"

He nodded.

"Then you also heard the part where I kicked his ass to the curb, right?" But he thought maybe that was because the man was smarmy or that he'd wanted her to get rid of Sammy. He managed another nod.

She gathered him close. "Now you listen to me, and you listen good, Dean Winchester. You, my little man, are just about my favorite person in the whole word and I'll be damned before I live one minute of my life without you in it. You got that?"

He wrapped his arms around her neck and sniffed, wanting to believe, but she hadn't disagreed. She'd thought about it first. Meant she could change her mind. "Yes."

"Be a few more weeks before some fool judge gets around to making it official, but you two boys are my sons, and I'll … well, you don't want to know what I'll do to anyone who tells me different."

He liked the words and she smelled so much like Mommy, closest he got to happy now was when she held him like this. Maybe he could be good enough for her to keep around. He wanted to stay with her so much. With Sammy and Jo, too.

"Seems like a good time to ask this. Your mommy and daddy didn't much care for middle names, so I was wondering if you'd do me the honor of letting my last name fill that slot. That way you'd always know you were a Harvelle, too."

He liked the idea, but wondered if his parents would be mad at him. But it might help keep Sammy safe, so he nodded.

Two weeks later they officially became Dean and Samuel Harvelle Winchester. By the end of the month, Aunt Ellen announced everything that had ever kept her in Lawrence was gone or under her charge, so there was no sense staying any longer. She sold The Roadhouse, packed up their stuff and headed back to where she and Mommy had grown up – Lakota Falls, South Dakota. She bought and renovated an old bar, turning it into a restaurant she also called The Roadhouse in honor of Uncle Bill.

By the end of the year she started spending a lot of time with Dad's old Marine buddy, Bobby Singer. They married eighteen months after Dean and Sam lost their parents. Uncle Bobby adopted all three of them, and Dean tried hard to make certain he never caused any trouble, to be useful so neither of his new parents ever regretted letting him stay.

Dean still didn't talk much. He answered politely when spoken to and said what he needed to when doing his number one job of looking after Sammy and Jo, but otherwise he kept to himself. Town was too small for the other three kids in his kindergarten class to mock him, but he knew they thought he was a freak. As long as Sammy was safe and loved, he didn't care.

It terrified him when Sammy then Jo's first words were his name, and although it about gutted him, he worked hard at getting both of them to say 'mommy' and 'daddy.' He felt like such an awful son the day he succeeded and Sammy called Aunt Ellen 'mommy,' but he also felt left out. Dean had loved his parents very much, but he loved his new parents, too, and it made him feel sad to call them his aunt and uncle.

Guess he wasn't too good about hiding it because one day when Uncle Bobby was letting Dean watch him work on a car engine, he said, "You know your parents were special people, but you're real important to your aunt and me. Can't replace your mommy and daddy, we know that. But we were wondering if you might like to call us 'Mom' and 'Dad?'"

Dean's heart leapt at the same time his stomach twisted. Once again he found himself caught between what he wanted and the fear his parents wouldn't have liked it. So he retreated once more into the thought he couldn't do anything that would get him and Sammy kicked out. He swallowed hard and managed, "Yes ... Dad."

 **Twelve Years Ago**

Castiel Novak sat at his kitchen table staring at the strings of code filling his computer screen. What he saw impressed him. One of his young cousins had written the program, or rather an enhancement of one Castiel had written a few years earlier. _Salvation_ had been one of the first really popular online video games and had made Castiel enough money, but just enough, to call himself a millionaire. But interest in the game was beginning to wane. Not enough gore or sex. Jake Tully's program fixed that and added several challenging layers. Even splitting the profits with him, they'd both have paychecks with commas in them for years to come. But did he want to go down this road? Did he want buxom women in scraps of cloth being ripped apart by demons associated with his name? It felt a lot like the closest thing he could come to imagining a snuff film.

"You know frowning will cause wrinkles. That's something you have to start worrying about now."

He rolled his eyes, then turned his attention to the doorway and the short, sandy-haired man smirking at him. "Talk to me after I've hit my double-century mark."

Gabriel Milton's face morphed into a mock scowl. "You wound me, baby bro. Two hundred and six is merely a child."

He knew he would regret it, but of all his brothers and sisters (full, half, and step) Gabriel was his favorite sibling and he couldn't help but indulge him. "What does that make me?"

"At fifty? A fetus, I think. Or is it an amoeba? I always get the two things confused."

"Hmmm, have you come for a purpose beyond torturing me with your dreadful sense of humor?"

Gabriel clutched his chest with a dramatic gasp. "Another cruel shot to the heart, Cassy. And here I've come offering _salvation_ from your dreary toil." He grinned. "I trust you appreciate the pun."

He couldn't quite prevent the smile that spread across his face, but he did try. "I have work to do."

"Two things. First, you aren't working anymore; you're brooding and getting those wrinkles I mentioned. Second, there is only one hour left before it's the day after your birthday. I think you can safely call it a night."

It was eleven? At night? Gabriel's snort suggested he might have said that out loud, but the last time he'd looked it hadn't even been noon. He'd almost missed his first chance to drink a mug of wolfsbane ale. Legally. He was, after all, Gabriel's favorite sibling, too. And even those with less favored status had reaped the benefits of the Beta's extensive knowledge of getting around underaged-drinking restrictions. Still, a milestone was a milestone, even one as arbitrary as an official drinking age. And this one involved more than the 'soda pop' indulged on a Human's twenty-first birthday.

He shut down his computer. "Where are we going?" There were a dozen bars in New York City that catered to 'stuff of myth and legend' clientele while the rest had wolfsbane ale and wine available for those who knew to ask for it.

"Moon and Claw Tavern," he answered. "I always prefer the classics for celebrations."

"Acceptable." He could hear the patter of rain on the roof so he grabbed his trench coat as he followed his brother out the door.

"Glad to hear it, since that's where the party is," Gabriel said, leading him to yet another new Mercedes. He had a passion for both the vehicle and new things, so he tended to trade the old one in as soon as the latest models released. This time he'd gone for a red SLK230 roadster. A matching black one sat in Castiel's garage – his birthday present. His twin, James, had received a blue version.

Castiel glared, "I don't want a party."

"Tough. No way my baby bro is turning 50 without a bash."

Bro not bros. So Jimmy wouldn't be there. Disappointing, but not unexpected. For some reason, his twin and Gabriel had never really gotten along. Surprising given everyone tended to like the eldest Beta of their clan. Clan, not pack. For more than four hundred years his Pack had lived and thrived, first in New Amsterdam, then New York. Their numbers had grown to an almost equal amount making the Edlund Clan the largest in all of North America. It should have gone on for centuries more. Charles Edlund had been a strong founder and leader despite an unassuming appearance. The bloodline was strong as well -- his Mate had given him two alphas – Michael and Lucifer – and two betas – Raphael and Gabriel – before a Lycaon had killed her just days after Gabriel's sister Anna had been born.

Their father had never recovered from the blow despite finding what little comfort he could in the arms of many a willing she-wolf and the resulting children. But eventually the sorrow had consumed him and he'd simply left, slipping away in the night with only the briefest note to the Clan to say goodbye.

Castiel and James had been the last of his children, and neither had many memories of the Alpha who had left on their fourth birthday. Sometimes he thought he remembered lips brushing against his forehead that last night, but he had no way of knowing if it had been his father's caress or his imagination.

"I'm surprised anyone wanted to come," he said, not seeing a point in avoiding the topic. Some saw his straight-forward approach to things as a fault, others as a strength. He merely saw it as what he was and moved on. It also let them both pretend Jimmy had opted to mourn with some of the others versus having chosen to avoid spending time with the two of them.

Gabriel shrugged. "Youngsters don't even remember him. Others knew he was never coming back." Others like Gabriel. For some reason everyone else had decided the Alpha would return when his youngest reached their majority. A foolish notion. While sometimes Castiel managed to picture their father relaxing on a beach somewhere, he knew in his heart the Alpha was dead. Most likely by his own hand. While it was a love heralded in song and story, losing a Mate destroyed the soul and made survival as rare as finding one.

In any case, if the Alpha did not return by midnight – 48 minutes from now – the Clan would have to declare a new leader or face sanctions by the Were Council. Castiel often disagreed with the decisions of the group that governed all Werewolves, but in this he thought they had the right of it – far too many years of 'temporary leadership' had already passed. It was time to move on. He simply wished the point of no return had not attached itself to his birthday.

When they arrived at the favored tavern the fateful midnight hour was but 15 minutes away. "Just enough time to get one flagon of ale in your scrawny hide," Gabriel announced, clapping him on the shoulder as several cousins, Jake among them, cheered their arrival. "Faith! We need a draft here!"

Faith, Gabriel's current favorite among the 'bar wenches,' got an icy glass into his hand within a minute, then joined the toast to the end of Castiel's childhood. As was the custom, he drank down every drop without pause. Given he hadn't eaten since breakfast, the damned brew gave him a buzz before he even reached the bottom. It was a source of endless amusement to see movies and books using wolfsbane as some sort of Werewolf repellent or poison, when the 'bane' part actually referred to its temptations, not its toxicity. Wine came from the berries; ales from the leaves; the elixir added to given Human liquors a 'kick' from the roots. A most useful plant. Or a source of addiction and woe. The debate never seemed to end.

In any case, while he enjoyed the occasional ale or wine, Castiel didn't tend to indulge much so he viewed Gabriel's call for laced-tequila shots with a wary eye. "Oh, lighten up, Cassy!" Balthazar Leclerq – third cousin on the Novak side -- chided him with his usual good-natured grin. "You need at least one more ale before you'll have any fun when the tequila comes out." He waggled his eyebrows. "Body shots."

"Oh?" Bela Talbot – second cousin Milton – smirked. "You volunteering to be the salt lick, Balth?"

"Only if you promise to take turns, darlin'," he answered.

"Oh, Tartaros, don't start," Gabriel moaned. "Stay off-again. It's easier on the stomach lining."

"Fuck you, Gabe," Balth said with a cheery grin, then threw his arm around Bela's shoulders. Since she didn't punch him, Castiel supposed they were officially on-again. Hopefully things wouldn't get full-frontal this time. Some images were extremely difficult to scrub out of one's mind no matter how much wolfsbane was involved.

"Damn, this is gonna get nasty," Jake moaned, moving closer to Ava Wilson. Another Novak cousin. While the last names varied -- Werewolves traced their linage through matriarchal lines -- their father had spent more than a century trying to bury his pain through sexual encounters and had sired a good third of the Clan.

An hour or so later a group of Humans entered the tavern. And by the nervous glances, Humans not in the know. The existence of what many Humans considered monsters was not well known, yet wasn't a great secret either. Many Humans – mostly businessmen or those in the service industries – were aware and profited handsomely from catering to the needs of the various non-Human consumers. However, it was a selective group. Given how Humanity reacted to variations in their own species, no one was too terribly anxious to step out of the proverbial supernatural closet. All of which led to moment's like this.

Someone would catch a glimpse of something or overhear something and would come looking, always certain they were either delusional or the brunt of some sort of practical joke. Humans had a specific underlying scent so when one came in, the bartenders went into a 'wink, wink, nudge, nudge' act about what was on tap and gave the new customers a rather poor normal, but overly pricy ale almost guaranteed to make them avoid the place in the future despite the friendly staff.

Castiel didn't know how the Vampires bars handled it with all the different animal bloods on tap, but he supposed whatever thick reddish liquid ended up in a Human's wine glass was disgusting beyond belief. Especially given most Vampires had an even more unfortunate sense of humor than Gabriel's. Made him shudder at the thought. In any case, going wolf in the middle of a city tavern held little appeal given the uncomfortable increase in smells and noise that went along with the transformation, so the Humans' arrival really didn't put a damper on his party.

The next group through the front door did. Lycaons. The hair on the back of every Achaean's neck stood up on end. Castiel's included. Too much wolfsbane and an ancient enemy – it was not a good combination nor did he think it was an accidental one. While no place of business could legally ban either of the two tribes of Werewolves from its premises, the Council could and did levee such restrictions. There were places where they could mix – but they all involved more food and far less access to inhibition-lowering substances. This tavern had been designated Achaean-only, something clearly proclaimed in the sigils decorating the entrances. So either the Lycaons were complete illiterates or this was an attempt to provoke an incident. And it was Castiel's family who'd been drinking.

Alastair, one of Azazel's principle betas, grinned at him with more teeth than humor. "I believe birthday greetings are in order, little one."

An insult given Castiel's alpha status, and to his alarm he heard a low growl rumble from the throats of several of his cousins. Most, including Gabriel, had gotten to their feet. Zeus! If not even their Beta could stay calm, this would turn into a full scale brawl. He couldn't let it happen. He was the youngest of them, but also the only alpha, and he put every ounce of authority that gave him into his voice. "Sit. Down. Now." To his relief, at least for now, they obeyed. He glared at his brother, who should be dealing with this instead of him, but his words were pitched low, "There is procedure. Follow it."

Gabriel stared at him for a moment, then nodded and pulled out his cell phone to summon the right sort of police officers.

He turned his attention back to the intruders. "I thank you for your well wishes, as I am certain, do our guests." He glanced toward the bar in warning. Alastair followed his gaze toward the outsiders who should not see any of this.

Incredibly, instead of looking alarmed and withdrawing, the Lycaon laughed. "How like an Achaean. Hiding behind Humans."

His own Clan members shifted uneasily. This sort of blatant display of otherness was a major violation of the accords. Banishment from the area was the best punishment they could hope for if this went any further.

One of Alastair's companions, a petite female with long-dark hair, seemed to agree. "We should go."

"Shut up, Ruby," Alastair hissed never taking his eyes off the now silent and wary-looking Humans. Four of them – three male and probably a set of two couples. All young and fit, all with no chance at all against a Werewolf. "I haven't had a good hunt in ages."

Zeus! He'd either lost his mind or was high on some wolfsbane synthetic. Castiel did not doubt Azazel had sent his Pack out to harass the Clan given the significance of the day, but he could not have wanted this.

Damn, now what? Alphas were warriors, leaders, but those who did not have a degree of diplomacy within them died as quickly as betas who could not fight. Still he was young, with a temperament to match and everything within him screamed to attack. Now. But if he made the first move it would be his group that would suffer banishment. He wished he could risk looking behind him, meet Gabriel's eyes and see if he could find answers there, but he dared not look away from Alastair. He swallowed. Delay him. The police would come. "As you said, it's my birthday. Why don't we all have a drink and relax?"

"Not thirsty. Hungry. Always wondered what Human-heart tasted like."

Alastair took a step toward the Humans, his fingers flexing. Claws would follow. He meant to change right in front of the Humans? Fingernails into claws, teeth into fangs, eyes into a silvery hue – a swift transformation if not a great one. One of their advantages over Achaeans, but Castiel's kind were stronger, faster once their wolf came forth. "One more step and _I_ will defend, Lycaon." He trusted his own to honor his implied order. Whatever happened they were not to interfere.

Ruby seemed to understand as well. "This wasn't the orders. You do this you're on your own, Al."

Laughter answered both of them. "As if I needed any help putting a baby in his crib. But, first, a snack." In an instant he changed. One of the Humans screamed and Castiel lunged. He twisted in mid-air, his clothes falling free as his own body transformed. Two instants instead of one, but Alastair's taunting focus on his prey had lost him the extra beat and a wolf, not a man slammed into him.

Claws raked at his black fur, but Castiel refused to release the yelp from his throat. He kicked himself loose with his back paws, then rolled to all fours before darting in for another attack. Again he ignored the slicing claws and paid the price, but he bit down hard on the left shoulder, powerful jaws crushing bone and flesh. Blood spurted around his snout, claws kept slicing into his side, but he kept his belly to the floor, his throat away from harm. Hard on him, but it prevented collateral damage.

Alastair's strikes grew weaker until his arms flopped limply to his sides. Castiel released his hold, shuffled back, then stood up, in his Human-form once more. The transformation healed his wounds and as he watched, Alastair saved himself in the same manner. They eyed each other, the fool obviously considering another attack. "Next time I go for your throat," his deep voice rumbled. A second change would leave them fit for battle, but overtaxed, leaving their bodies unable to heal again for hours. One of them would die this time. Die for pride, nebulous orders and substance abuse.

The sound of approaching sirens finally seemed to get through to Alastair. That or Ruby's, "Shit, we're out of here!" and the sight of his Pack-mates running out the door.

"Another time, baby wolf," he snarled and ran after them. Not that it would help. The tavern had security cameras and Alastair, if not Azazel himself, had much to answer for. After everything was sorted out.

Resigned to spending the rest of the night in a precinct lock-up, he started dressing. "Gabriel, contact Madison." They'd need a lawyer, a good one. Fortunately, one of their cousins fit the bill nicely. Not the best birthday he'd ever had, but certainly a memorable one.

*

Madison Hearn arrived at the station an hour after his birthday party had moved to a locked cell. She stood on the other side of the bars shaking her head and looking as immaculate as if she'd had all the time in the world to dress.

"Mads," Gabriel said with a cheerful wave. "Come to spring us at last?"

"Gabe, Gabe, I _told_ you not to have a party tonight."

"That was just because you couldn't come."

"True," she turned her glare on Castiel as if it were somehow his fault an important birthday fell on a weeknight, then again, he'd been born on a Thursday so it seemed appropriate to turn 50 on one, too. "And yet somehow you missed the part of the conversation where I said I had an early court date in the morning."

"And now you have another one! So put that fancy Harvard degree of yours to work and get us out of here before Michael finds out and starts shitting bricks all over the place."

She sighed. "Too late. At least half of Azazel's Pack is in front of the Council or have cut to the chase and headed for the hills. Like they all lost their minds." She shook her head somehow surprised at the lunacy of the tribe rivalry despite millennia of animosity and flat-out warfare.

Deciding he'd watched in silence long enough, Castiel stood. "They saw us as vulnerable and moved against us. Unwise, but predictable once the Council announced a deadline for father's return."

Gabriel gave him a look he couldn't read. An unusual occurrence given how well they understood each other. "You don't think it was time to stop waiting?"

He sighed. "It was well overdue, but announcing it to the Were-community instead of quietly informing our leadership was a tactical error great enough I suspect this night's fallout was intended."

Madison and Gabriel exchanged a look, then she asked, "But why?"

He shrugged. Oh, let him count the ways. "Our Clan is powerful, some believe dangerously so. The desire to diminish our influence is therefore the most likely reason."

"But it backfired because you kept your head when it counted." Gabriel gave him a sheepish smile. "Thanks for that, Cassy. I was supposed to be the responsible elder, not the one calling for more shots."

"You were in mourning," he answered softly, gripping Gabriel's shoulder. He knew his brother had deeply loved their father and finally having to give up hope, no matter how faint, hurt him. "And I am of age and an alpha. It was my responsibility."

True on the surface, but Gabriel was not merely a beta, but one of the Clan's two Betas. That would always outrank a young alpha. At least when the Beta wasn't working on a bender. Gabriel snorted. "I doubt Mike and Luc will see it that way. Not to mention what a pompous bitch Raph's gonna be."

Castiel could have asked exactly how that was different from his usual attitude, but one had to respect the status if not the Werewolf. Although if the small smirk Gabriel gave him was any indication he hadn't been successful from keeping the essence of the thought off his face.

"I'm afraid you're about to find out," Madison said. "They want to see you. Both of you."

While Gabriel groaned and an officer arrived to release them all, Castiel lapsed back into his silence. Much of what had happened last night disturbed him, especially the Humans involved. They had come into the tavern curious and high on the potential adventure of discovering there was more to the world than they'd been taught to believe. He wished that had been their only fate. Instead, they had seen just enough truth to forever view his kind with fear and suspicion. A Vampire compulsion – SOP in this sort of situation – would prevent them from communicating what they'd seen, but not even the strongest Vampires could wipe away the memories and the process would leave the Humans feeling as if their very minds had been raped. Two species – Vampire and Werewolf – irrevocably tainted to four who had merely wanted to know.

He wanted to go to them, to explain, even to beg them not to judge all by the actions of a few and the need to prevent four frightened young people from running around screaming about 'monsters among us.' He wished he could tell them about his own people. About friends among the Vampires population. Days like this, he hated with all his being that Humans gained most of their information from media determined to label anything non-Human as evil or at least damned and doing his/her best to overcome it. A thought stirred in the back of his mind, but he had to push it aside as they arrived at Lucifer's penthouse.

Identical twins like Jimmy and himself, the Clan's acting Alphas sat in the main room, giving no sign of which was which. However Raphael stood to the right of one of them, marking him as Lucifer. Technically, neither Beta served a specific Alpha, but in practice, it had always been Raphael with Lucifer; Gabriel with Michael.

A scowl settled onto Michael's face as his gaze fell on Gabriel. Castiel had to fight the urge to step in front of his older brother, to protect him. Partly because he loved him, but also due to the injustice of it all. No one could have possibly predicted Alastair would go so far. And in truth, if anyone in this room _had_ suspected such an event, they had failed in their responsibility to prevent it. Knowing this thought would put challenge in his eyes, he kept his gaze no higher than chest-level as if he were still officially a cub instead of grown wolf.

"Gabriel, we have much to discuss," Michael said, then gestured for the Beta to take his usual place at his Alpha's side. Not something he would do if any unjust, but dramatic censure would fall upon the Beta, and Castiel's tension eased enough to risk looking up.

"Yes," Lucifer agreed. "But first we must convey our thanks to you, little brother. You did well last night, Castiel. A misjudgment on your part could have cost the Clan dearly. We owe you for this and," a smile crossed his face, his pleasant features settling into a kind expression, "for your birthday. Name your reward for both."

He opened his mouth to say he had all he wished, that their love was enough, but then his earlier thought pushed forward, and he smiled instead. "Yes, there is something I would like. Permission."

 **Ten Years Ago**

Dean sat on his bed his fingers moving over the neck of his guitar. Bridge leading into the chorus was giving him fits and Mrs. Carrigan wanted him to play it for the school assembly next week. Funny how things worked out.

Music had become his refuge by the time he hit six. It kept him centered and for some reason the lump in his throat never gave him any trouble when he sang along. For his seventh birthday Mom and Dad had given him his first guitar. They'd even apologized for not getting it for him sooner. He still didn't understand why, but he'd taken to the instrument real quick. Had ended up getting him his first real friend too

He could still remember the day Ash Lindberg had sat down on the lower porch step when Dean was trying to work out how to play _Hey, Jude_ because Sammy and Jo liked to 'sing' along with the 'na na na na na nas.' Ash was a couple years older than Dean, not that it really mattered in a one-room schoolhouse, but they'd never talked at all beyond a 'hey' from Ash and a nod from Dean.

Dean had flushed slightly and kept playing while he'd waited for the other boy to mock him. Instead Ash had stayed quiet until Dean finished. Then he'd said, "You are a dude with skills." Turned out he had a synthesizer – now replaced by a series of computer programs – and they'd started playing music together. Andy Gallagher and his drums had joined in a couple of years later. Last year Jo had agreed to sing with him and Dean had finally let them talk him into performing at The Roadhouse every Friday night. Of course, he'd tried to get Jo to do most of the singing – well, all of it -- but she always insisted he do half as part of his therapy, and there was no way he was going to let his baby sister think he was a chicken. Even if his voice did suck.

The group – they changed names every few months, but he thought the current one, Lakota Skies, might stick – was supposed to perform for this school thing and everyone had their part down cold, except, of course, for him. Ash had told him to chill, insisted Dean had the most complicated shit and that he'd nail it like always by showtime. But damnit, his fingers just didn't want to move right. If he didn't love the stupid guitar so much. …

"Dean!" Sam burst into the room before Dean could commit guitarcide. "You gotta see this!"

Dean leveled his best 'displeased older brother' look at Sam for the intrusion, but the squirt ignored him and started turning stuff on. Without permission. Sort of went along with the coming in uninvited thing. He briefly considered ripping his kid brother a new one, but who was he kidding? A distraction was a distraction and he needed one.

By the time he'd decided not to kill him, Sam had an online game cued up on Dean's television screen. _"Salvation?"_ He'd loved the game when it first came out. All about a post-Apocalypse world where the heroes fought off marauders and Zombies while rebuilding civilization. But he'd mastered it a couple of years ago and hadn't bothered with it much since.

"Not just _Salvation._ This is _Salvation: Werewolves!"_

Crap. He hated fictional Werewolf shit. Got real tired of them being either love sick saps or the bad guys. "Sam-"

"This is different!" Sam headed him off with a roll of his eyes. Yeah, Dean might have expressed his opinion about Hollywood and Werewolves a couple of times since finding out they were 1) real and 2) part of their bloodline. Their mother's dad, Samuel Campbell had been the last Alpha of the Campbell Pack. They'd found out on Dean's tenth birthday when Mom and Dad had set them down for a talk, saying there were a few truths they thought they could handle now.

Story went that his Grandpa hadn't approved of John Winchester. Considered him nothing more than a no-account drifter with no future and no ties to the town beyond Bobby had been his sergeant in the Corp. Worse, he was Human so their children could never become Werewolves. Yes, once puberty hit they'd be stronger than Humans with heightened senses, but nothing really obvious like bench-pressing cars.

Despite his own wife being Human and their daughter having mixed blood in the first place being the problem, Samuel had gone all hypocrite and disinherited his daughter when she'd run off with John. Nothing about Dean's existence had changed his mind, so he'd never even seen his grandson by the time he and his wife had died a few days short of Dean's first birthday. Will had left his property to the town, but they'd turn it over to Dean and Sam soon as Dean hit eighteen because what was right was right. Dean thought he'd probably say no. Grandpa hadn't wanted him to have it, so why would he want it?

Mary rejecting her destiny as the next Alpha of the Campbell Pack had kind of killed its future and the members had drifted away over the next couple of years. Down to five when something murdered them. Samuel had managed to kill the thing before he'd died of his own wounds and nothing like it had been seen in the fifteen years since, but there _were_ more out there. And other creatures Dean would have once shoved into the 'things that go bump in the night' category. It was why myth, folklore, hand-to-hand combat and weapons training had been as much of his school curriculum as reading, writing and arithmetic. Dean had more than excelled at all of them because, contrary to popular opinion, near-muteness was not a sign of dumbness, but it was frustrating how little was actually _known_ about each species. Species. Not creatures or monsters, but another type of life. Except Zombies. They popped up every once in awhile due to curses or black magic and they really were reanimated corpses. Gross. The rest mostly came under the heading of a lot of bullshit and what to do if attacked by one. And most of the lore on how to kill was beyond crap.

Werewolves for instance. They healed fast, but a well-placed regular bullet would kill them as quick as a silver one. Ditto about everything else. Vampires? Wooden stake to the heart, sure, but anything to the heart would do the job. Just like with a Human. So bottom line, Dean really didn't have anything good to say about the whole horror genre.

"Look," Sam said. "The Werewolves are the heroes! And the avatars can be full-, half- and quarter-bloods! Like us!"

That did sound kind of cool, so he picked up his controller and settled in beside Sam. Cooler graphics, harder traps to evade and the best world building Dean had ever seen. It was like one of those history-based fantasy novels where it felt so real the reader started thinking that's the way it must have happened despite the fantasy elements. And like the best of those, as they played, Dean kept getting the sense he was learning all about Werewolves. How there were two kinds – Lycaons and Achaeans – and what the differences were. "Grandpa would have been Achaean," he muttered as his character struggled to form an alliance with the Lycaons. Seemed like real douches, and he was glad he could pretend to be the other.

By the time he'd broken level one, the game had dubbed him a beta with alpha-levels of leadership and battle tactics. Sam preened when the game declared him an alpha, then scowled when the score pushed him over into 'too alpha' territory and advised him to tone it down, shut up and listen to his betas or get himself and his pack killed.

He found it damned hard to shut down and go to bed. Even harder to resist the call of the game until he mastered the elusive bridge, but apparently a day spent limbering up his fingers on the controllers helped and the cords finally flowed the way they should. Speaking of which, "Game on, midget!" he called and Sam darted into the room.

*

One advantage of such a small school was that the older kids got to help out with the younger kids during recess. Tuesdays Dean always refereed the soccer games, which meant Jo on one team and Sammy on the other to reduce any sibling favoritism or antagonism. Not really an issue with his family – both of them would kill him if he called things wrong since they wanted to win fair and square – but he saw the sense of it. Today it wasn't an even match though. Jo had hit the field like gangbusters, but he and Sam had spent too much time playing the game versus sleeping, so his little brother was getting his ass handed to him. Have to make certain they hit the sack early tonight.

Andy's twin brother, Ansen, blew his whistle, calling offside against Jo's team, and Dean rolled his eyes. Third time this quarter and it was getting old. Jo seemed to think so, too, from her expression and he guessed both Ansen and Chuck Shurley were going to get an earful come halftime. The little mini-drama not his problem, he let his gaze wander, relaxing into looking without having to judge for a few minutes. With that mindset it took him a moment to register what he was seeing, but it sunk in just as Olive Fremont disappeared into the woods north of the playground. With a tall, thin man.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted, running toward the woods, "Get Mrs. Carrigan! Tell her to call Sheriff Turner!"

He caught a glimpse of his brother rocketing toward the school house, then he moved through the treeline, the dense foliage instantly muting the sounds of his friends. Alone, but he couldn't let some pervert drag off one of the kids. He forced himself to focus, to concentrate on his sense of smell. Every kid had a unique scent – a mixture of sweat and the stuff they used to stay clean – and he easily narrowed in on hers. He also caught something else in the wind, something that made his stomach twist in fear. He wanted to retreat back to the playground with the tail he didn't have tucked between his legs, but no, he couldn't let Olive get hurt or killed because of his cowardice.

A certain natural ability to move quietly seemed to come with the Were-blood, so he didn't make much noise as he ran along the scent trail. Or at least he hoped not. Hard to tell over the pounding roar of his own heartbeat. He slipped between two trees and spotted them.

Olive had gotten scared or had figured out she was in trouble and had started to cry. The perv had hold of her arm, dragging her along like some rag doll despite her attempts to pull free. Ignoring any attempt by his brain to scream at him how much strength that meant, he did the only thing he could and launched himself at the creep.

The tackle sent all three of them sprawling, but Dean twisted and managed to recover his footing within seconds. "Olive, run!" he shouted, getting between her and her attacker. Perv had a beard that seemed to highlight the sudden growth of fangs, the flash of silver eyes. Holy shit a Lycaon. Fully transformed and pissed off. And Dean knew he was going to die.

Horror froze him for a moment, leaving him open for a strike, but at the last second he snapped out of it and threw himself backwards. White hot pain flashed across his stomach, but his guts didn't spill out onto the ground, so he counted it as a win. Despite the hot liquid spreading across his torso he managed to dodge the next two strikes, but the wetter his clothes got the harder it got to focus, to move.

The Lycaon drove him backwards, but Dean turned it to his advantage, getting a tree between the two of them. Gave him a split second to take in his surroundings. To see the scattering of fallen branches. Lived in the area long enough to know what he could use, what looked fresh enough to stay solid if struck versus rotted through. He ducked another swing and lunged for the closest viable weapon, sweeping it up and around in time to catch the Lycaon across the temple, then he slammed it across the torso when the perv staggered.

Might have at least driven him off, but each swing made Dean's wound flow faster, made him dizzy. Desperate, he put all he had into one last upward thrust, catching his attacker under the jaw. The Lycaon fell backward, landing hard.

Dean ran. Back toward the school as fast as his failing body would carry him, praying he'd stalled long enough for the sheriff to arrive. But if Rufus Turner had been out patrolling the countryside he might not have made it yet. No choice. Dean veered away from his only hope of survival, not willing to risk his friends and family. But his legs had other ideas. He'd only made it a hundred yards or so before they buckled, pitching him toward the ground, but instinct made him twist and roll as he hit.

The Lycaon landed where Dean had been, but he spun up onto his feet in the blink of an eye and Dean didn't have the strength left to move again. Claws dark with Dean's blood, he moved in for the kill. A shot sounded, a good chunk of the Lycaon's head vanished and the body fell, hitting the ground a foot away from where Dean lay.

'Guess Rufus was in town after all,' he thought, then blackness closed in.

*

A beeping pushed through dreams of the video game. Slowly the sound pulled him up and into an unfamiliar bed. What? Head felt muzzy and he had to struggle to open his eyes. Couldn't focus and everything felt wrong … except a warm weight on his hand. Someone holding his hand. He managed to give it a squeeze

Instantly his father appeared in his murky field of vision. "Dean? You with me, boy?"

"Dad," he sighed. Safe. He was safe.

"Yeah, I'm here." His voice sounded gruff, and Dean wondered if he'd done something wrong.

"Where?"

"McKennan Hospital in Sioux Falls." Dad reached up with his free hand and caressed Dean's face. "Gave us quite a scare."

He had? He almost asked how, then he remembered. "Olive, she okay?"

"Scared and a little scratched up, fine otherwise."

Good. "Me?"

"Damned near died in the air ambulance," Dad answered, his voice breaking on the 'died.' "But your Were-blood kept you goin'. Speedin' up the healin' process, too." He snorted or maybe kind of sobbed. "All said and done, won't even scar."

"You 'kay?"

He shook his head. "Always knew you'd be a fuckin' hero. Just didn't figure on yeh givin' me gray hairs this soon."

"Not hero," Dean protested. "Scared."

"Idjit," he chided. "Bein' a hero ain't about not bein' scared. It's about doing' what needs doin' anyway. That's you through and through." He gave Dean's hand a squeeze. "Since you were all of four years old."

Didn't sound right to Dean, but he was starting to feel the pain and he wanted, needed, "Mom?"

"Hotel across the street with Sam and Jo," he answered. "Only one of us could be in here at a time." He stood up. "Let me get the nurse, then I'll call 'em."

"'kay." Dean drifted in and out for a time, but things came back into focus when he felt lips press against his forehead. "Mom."

"Hey, baby," she whispered, drawing back enough to give him a smile, but her eyes looked all red and watery.

He found himself strong enough to lift his arm and touch her face. "'You okay?"

She took in a shaky breath. "I'm great now that I can see those big green eyes of yours."

Didn't hurt as much, but the fuzziness had gone, so it couldn't be the medication. Healing fast just like Dad had said. "Wanna go home."

"Not yet, young man," a voice said and an attractive blonde stepped into his line of sight. "But you play your cards right and tomorrow night you can sleep in your own bed."

"This is Dr. Stafford," Mom told him. "She stitched you back up."

Pale eyes, green or blue, Dean couldn't tell, regarded him. "Got lucky he didn't perforate your bowel, so your body isn't dealing with that complication. And that's letting you heal faster." She poked at him, listened to his lungs and heart, asked a few questions, then gave him a smile. "How about we move you to a regular room so your brother and sister can visit?"

"Sounds good," he answered and twenty minutes later, Dad brought Sam and Jo into his room.

"Dean!" His sister ran to him, but hugged him gently. "You okay, jerk?" she asked softly.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her hair. "Fine, brat."

She leaned close enough no one else would have been able to hear when she whispered, "Knew you would be, but Sammy's been real scared."

"Yeah?" his gaze moved to his brother. Face pale as a ghost, Sam hovered just inside the room like he was scared Dean would disappear or something if he moved closer.

"Yeah. He led Sheriff Turner to you."

Crap, then he'd seen the guy's head blown off and Dean bleeding out. "Come 'ere, bitch," he demanded, despite their parents being there to hear Dean's favorite 'term of endearment' for his little brother.

Sam's lip quivered then he was across the room and clinging to Dean. "Stupid jerk," he sniffled into Dean's shoulder. "Thought you were going to die."

"Nah," he said, holding his brother and sister close. "Can't leave you. 's my job to look after you."

 **Nine Years Ago**

Castiel stood on the sidewalk staring at the funeral home door. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around the need to walk inside. Certain friends and family had died before, but never a Werewolf as young and strong as Christopher Barr. Disease seldom claimed his people and accidents severe enough to kill were rare. Chris had suffered neither fate. Instead something or someone had attacked him as he'd walked the short distance between the subway station and the home he shared with his wife and two-year-old son. Attacked him and ripped him to shreds. Something or someone. No way to tell which according to the medical examiner. The murderer had taken care to destroy Chris enough to hide the telltale signs of Werewolf versus Vampires versus Skinwalker versus something else.

It made no sense. An attack such as this in the middle of the city? And why Chris? A young man even by Human standards, he'd not had time to gain the sort of power and influence for any of the non-Human possibilities to consider him an enemy. Not even his trade should have provoked any ire. Chris had been an architect. A fairly talented one, and, although such things could cause jealousy, it seemed a remote possibility. Chris had died young – a few months short of his fortieth birthday. Given his youth, he had yet to take the lead on any important project. The largest job he'd had was some remodeling work on Michael's estate, but no one would have expected the Clan to hire outside of its members. No, it made no sense, but it had happened all the same.

With a heavy sigh he walked inside. Given the size of the Clan and the number of those who called themselves friends it took him some time to make his way through the huge room to where Andrea stood holding Lucas' hand. Jimmy and his wife, Amelia, stood next to her. He stopped, giving them a moment to finish their conversation before he approached.

"Uncle Cassy." A soft voice drew his attention to a nearby chair and his four-year-old niece.

"Hello, Claire," he said, scooping the girl up into his arms, hugging her tightly. He'd always loved her, viewed her as the child he would probably never have, but in this moment the beating of her heart seemed to give him strength. Life. All must eventually journey to Hades realm so new life could flourish. A brutal cycle, yet it offered up the only sense anyone could find in this horror.

She clung to him. "Lucas won't talk to me," she told him. "His mommy said he won't talk to anyone."

"It is not an uncommon way for our kind to cope with grief." Sometimes the wolf howled, and sometimes it took refuge in utter silence. "Give him time."

"But it makes me lonely."

"I understand, my sweet, but I am here. When you are alone, you may always call for me."

She nodded, then snuggled against his chest, putting to rest any notion of setting her down. Instead he carried her over to her parents then kissed Amelia's cheek in greeting. "It's good to see you, sister."

"And you," she answered. It was not quite a lie for either of them. While Human twins often shared uncommonly strong bonds, their Werewolf counterparts often struggled with an inability to share more than a quiet friendship. He and James loved each other as kinsmen, but had little in common. Worse, his status in the Clan outshone Jimmy's and his brother's insistence in making his own way had left Castiel no real way to share his wealth with him. It had caused an undercurrent of unease between Castiel and his sister-in-law. One bordering on resentment. Yet she and Jimmy were good people and had done nothing to discourage his relationship with their daughter.

He shifted Claire to one arm, then used his free hand to clasp forearms with his brother. Whatever their difficulties, in times of disquiet they were there for each other. Before he could say anything, strong, but small arms encircled his thigh and he looked down to see Lucas hugging his leg. He dropped his hand to rest it against the boy's bright red hair, an offer of silent comfort for silent grief. The boy responded by hugging him harder, so he left his hand in place as he turned his attention to Andrea. "He will be missed," he whispered, his lips brushing her cheek.

"Thank you," she answered giving him a watery smile. He did not feel the need to say more. As one of the priestess' of the Clan, she was an expert at offering spiritual comfort, making any words he could offer along those lines seem presumptuous and inadequate. Others did not share the same opinion. They spoke of Chris waiting for his family in the Elysian Fields. Of such a kind soul becoming a favored of Hades or Persephone – as if anyone had ever faired well who drew the attentions of the gods outside of prayer. One aged aunt even suggested Andrea could take comfort in knowing that Chris had not been her true Mate, so she could find love again. True in its essence, but even a non-Mated pairing could have a deep foundation in love and such had been their union.

Lucifer and Michael arrived toward the end of the evening, offering formal words of condolences and reassurances any aid needed would be given. Including any college funds Lucas might require. "Thank you, Alphas," she said with what seemed genuine gratitude. A priestess was an honored position, but not an affluent one, and she would need the financial support of the Clan if they did not want to lose her to a secular job. Something he doubted anyone wanted to see happen for she had a genuine gift for comfort and spiritual healing.

Michael added, "Gabriel will see to things." The better choice of the two Betas as Raphael had fewer … 'people' skills, but the words seemed to displease Lucifer. A headache stirred and Castiel wished he had a free hand to rub his forehead. Against all precedent, the Clan had opted to keep both Alphas in power. Certainly the Clan was large enough to warrant a continuation of the temporary joint-leadership, but there were no guidelines for it, and occasionally the two brothers clashed despite being the exception to distant Were-twins. Not to mention 49 years spent already doing the job together. Part of the problem was they ruled together not because of a deliberate decision for them to do so, but because three separate votes had failed to give either a large enough quorum to assume the leadership. It made many uneasy, Castiel among them, and question the wisdom of keeping the Clan together. They should have split into two packs, but retaining the wealth and power of a united Edlund Clan was a difficult idea to argue against.

Claire's parents collected her when Gabriel arrived, both Castiel and their older brother opted to pretend Jimmy's timing was nothing but a coincidence. And perhaps it was. The two Werewolves were not close, but they weren't enemies either. It was getting late, Claire having fallen asleep against his shoulder almost an hour ago. He reached down and picked up Lucas, letting the boy take her sleeping spot.

As ever a master with others, Gabriel offered his condolences and shared a few stories with her about his encounters with her late husband. Amusing ones that made her smile despite the paleness of her face. Thank you," she whispered, kissing the Beta on the cheek, then slipped her arm through Castiel's free one.

Gabriel made certain she had his private number, then said his goodnights. Castiel looked around and realized the room had all but emptied as they'd talked. It was time to go, and Raphael had never made an appearance. Or perhaps he had come before Castiel's arrival. Either way he saw no wisdom in asking about it. He offered to see her home, and as he drove across town it slowly sank in that he had slipped into his expected role without conscious thought. Expected, not required. Still, he was the youngest alpha and Chris had been a friend. Not a close one, but a friend nonetheless. Andrea was but ten years older and a strong beta with good bloodlines. Not that this would appeal to Castiel, yet there were other compelling reasons to speak. "Do you wish to marry?"

Historically their marriage would have kept unwanted attentions away from her and in these times could offer her security. Should she find love again neither would suffer any stigma from a divorce, yet Lucas would remain under his protection. The catch? Even a marriage of convenience demanded monogamy among their kind.

She gave him a faint smile. "I'm grateful for the offer, truly. But you do not desire the love of a woman."

No point in denying it. Werewolves tended toward bi-sexuality, but a few were exclusive in their gender preferences. Castiel had never felt the slightest stirring of desire for a woman, despite a platonic love for many, including this one. "I won't say I'm not a little relieved," he returned her honesty. "But I will have Gabriel draw up Articles of Protection for you and Lucas." It would give her the rights of a wife without the title and make Lucas one of his heirs. As was Claire.

"Some might see it as the first move in forming your own pack."

Technically it was the legalese that accompanied such a thing, but given his sexuality and Andrea's situation he doubted either Alpha would object. "I'll ask Gabriel to deal with them."

She smiled again. "It must be nice having a big brother wrapped so firmly around your finger."

He snorted. "No one has ever made Gabriel do anything he didn’t want to. Then again, these days I am technically his boss." His software business had grown to the point he'd felt the need for a front man more at ease with 'schmoosing' others, so he'd asked Gabriel to serve as his marketing director. To his surprise his brother had clapped him on the back and said, 'I thought you'd never ask!' Since then they'd brought in a few other cousins and friends, expanding the Salvation brand to include an anti-virus software poised to rival McAfee and Norton. "So I guess I do have a little more influence than others."

"Hmm." He supposed that was priestess-speak for 'he adores you and you know it.' In any case, Gabriel would get the job done and make certain no fur got rubbed the wrong way in the process.

He pulled up in front of her apartment building then frowned. Chris had died less than a block from here and little hope existed of catching his killer or killers. "Are you fond of this place?"

"No, not anymore. I can hardly stand the sight of this street."

He nodded. "Then come live with me. I have more than enough room for both of you. And. …" His voice trailed off, uncertain what to say.

"Something feels wrong," she said it for him.

"Yes." And not simply with the street. "I fear no one is safe."

She was silent for a few moments, she said, "I'll pack a bag for tonight, deal with the moving in daylight."

"A good idea," he said getting out of the car. He carried Lucas inside and let neither of them out of his sight until each was safely asleep in his spare bedrooms. Alone with his thoughts, he poured himself a scotch – one free of wolfsbane. It would be some time before he indulged in indulged in intoxicating spirits again. Yes, something felt very wrong.

 **Six Years Ago**

Despite his good grades, Dean had never wanted to go to college. He loved learning, but the idea of leaving home terrified him. Too much of that little kid waiting to be told to leave and never come back lived inside of him. But he knew both sets of parents had always worked toward his being able to go, so how could he say no? Feeling like he had no choice he applied to the University of South Dakota even though he had grades good enough for something far more prestigious. But it was only a three-hour drive from home and offered a criminology degree, because if he had to go he wanted to learn how to track down criminals, Human and otherwise. His experience with Olive had taught him that much.

It all but killed him to see how happy Mom and Dad were the day they helped him move into his dorm, and he … pined in the weeks that followed. Made his roommate avoid him like the plague. Not that Dean blamed him because what self-respecting guy wanted to end up rooming with a brooding twelve year-old girl?

Dean lived for the calls from home even though they never lasted long. He was losing his words again and couldn't hold up his end of a conversation well. Wasn't eating or sleeping much either. Then he met Gordon Walker.

At twelve Dean had watched the other guys grow interested in girls while he'd felt nothing beyond the desire to remain friends. By the time he'd ended up in the hospital and had more than one pretty nurse teasing him, he'd figured it out. He was gay and living in a small town where everyone was either attached, over thirty or heterosexual. So he'd never even kissed another guy. At the time he'd thought Gordon was his salvation. They had the same Forensics 101 class and Gordon pulled the classic 'can I borrow your notes' line. Dean fell for it and him. Hard. Did everything the man asked, but Dean could never please him. By the time Gordon declared him a needy bitch that no one could tolerate in large doses, Dean didn't have any form of virginity left. Knowing the man was right, Dean didn't beg him not to leave. Instead he crawled into his bed, pulled the covers over his head and didn't move for two days. His roommate noticed and called Mom.

She and Dad arrived the next day. Packed him up and took him home while he sat in the backseat with his mom and cried in her arms for most of the trip. They calmed him down, got him to eat and sleep, even to talk again. Once they felt he could hold up his end of the conversation, they sat him down at the kitchen table and over coffee Dad asked, "Son, do you want to go to college?"

Again the truth got clogged in his throat, his wolf wanting nothing more than to whine and slink back under a den of covers. He'd have to go back. Say it had all been because of a broken heart and he could go back. But Mom gripped his hand. "Dean Winchester, so help me, if you lie to us, I'll fill your ass full of rock salt."

So they already knew the answer. Of course they already knew. They were Mom and Dad and he was too emotionally beat up to hide things from them. "No, I wanna stay here."

She caressed his face. "All right, then that's what you'll do." She kissed him on the forehead, then added, "You ever let anyone – including us – make you do something you know's not right for you and I'll kick your ass from here to the Pacific Ocean and back. You got me, boy?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Think your mom's covered the jest of the matter," Dad said. "But if you want the degree, but not the new address, you ever considered doin' it all online?"

And yeah, that's what he wanted. So he hit the computer and went back to his studies. And in time he'd even come to understand Gordon was an abuser who got off on dominating and hurting others. Not that it made it hurt any less.

Once he felt strong enough he talked Rufus into taking him on as a deputy to back up Jodi Mills. Six years later she resigned and left town after her son died then her husband committed suicide. Five months after that, Rufus decided to retire and Dean became sheriff of Lakota Falls by default.

 **Five Months Ago**

His jaws clamped down, then ripped. Blood filled his mouth as Virgil went limp beneath him. The big wolf moved away from his kill, then black-brown fur rippled and Castiel took form. He looked down at the body of one of his many cousins and knew the life he had led for the last 62 years had just come to an end. No, he pushed away the sorrow. Now was not the time to mourn.

He turned and took the clothes Gabriel held out to him. "Take care of the body," he ordered as he dressed.

Gabriel nodded, "And you'll be …?"

"Dealing with Uriel," he started toward the door, but Gabriel caught hold of his arm. Others would have wilted at the look Castiel gave him, but the older man didn't so much as flinch.

"Anna will never forgive you."

"Fair enough given I'm unlikely to forgive myself."

"Cassy –"

"No," he said, pulling his arm free. "Michael had him kill Chris because he'd helped set up the mansion's security." But Chris had only been the first. One by one those vocal in their preference for one Alpha over the other had died. As did those who were loyal to the Clan but were seen as the threat by one of the leaders. "Michael's assassin deserves no less than Lucifer's."

Gabriel sighed, but nodded. "Be careful, little brother."

"I will."

Trying not to think too hard about what must happen at the end of his journey, he returned to his car. He couldn't believe it had come to this. For more than four hundred years his clan had thrived here. Ten years ago they'd numbered almost 300. Now more than half had died. Everything was in ruins because of a power struggle that had refused to end when the unthinkable had happened. Lucifer had fallen victim to an assassin. Michael had seemed grief-stricken -- on the surface -- but to Castiel it had rung false. An uneasy peace had settled over the survivors. It had ended six weeks later with Michael's murder. A sloppy killing for revenge rather than the traceless assassinations before, he had easily followed the trail to Virgil. Virgil who liked to taunt those he considered inferior.

Virgil hadn't even bothered to change into his wolf form until he'd inexplicably found himself in a losing battle. Castiel might be young, but he was the first of the next generation of alphas and had no equal as a fighter. He'd not made the kill until after he had the whole story. As he'd feared his siblings and his cousins had all fallen victim to a war between his oldest brothers. Virgil had followed Lucifer's deadly orders. Unsurprising, given he'd always come off as unthinking muscle. But the assassin who had served Michael was unexpected. Uriel Hobbs – the father of Anna's unborn child and one of Castiel's mentors. Remembering that friendship and the happiness in his favorite sister's eyes as she and Uriel had fallen in love, Castiel had not wanted to believe it. But he'd known it was the truth. Uriel believed too strongly in Michael's visions and held a deep-seated belief in the ends justifying the means.

Shaking himself free of the past and thoughts that could weaken his resolve, he pulled into the driveway of Michael's estate. Several of the Clan followed the old ways and lived under the same roof with their favored Alpha, especially in these dangerous times. Uriel and Anna numbered among them. As did Castiel's twin.

Jimmy stood in the doorway waiting for him. "Gabriel called," he said in lieu of a greeting. "I sent Anna, Amelia, and Claire to him."

Gabriel would keep them safe. Castiel nodded his approval, then stepped forward. Jimmy's hand on his chest stopped him. "You can't do this, brother."

Castiel wished it were true. Wished he didn't have it within himself to kill a friend, but the need to do what must be done flowed too strongly in his veins. "Yes, I can."

Jimmy stared at him. A scholar and a businessman with not even a strong foothold in beta-status, Jimmy could never seem to understand the violent underbelly of their existence. Castiel normally preferred it that way – one warrior between them was more than enough – but Jimmy looked determined to stand in his way.

"Step aside, Jimmy," he ordered, both of them well aware that he was the soul alpha left alive. "Now."

Even then Jimmy hesitated. Despite the inbred need to obey the hierarchy, he did not move.

For no one else would Castiel have softened his manner, but this was the twin he'd wanted to be closer to. "You know I will take no pleasure in this, but it must be done. The blood of so many lost demands it." He leaned forward and whispered, "Trust me."

Another moment passed before Jimmy shifted out of his way. "Take my car and go," Castiel said, his hand coming to rest on his brother's shoulder.

"No, if you've got to do this, I'm not letting you deal with it alone."

His heart swelled at the thought, but, "Jimmy, you’re not a fighter."

An assessing look crossed the mirror image of Castiel's own face. "Do you need that sort of help, Cassy?"

Beyond the 'tavern brawl' years ago – something that had required more jaw strength than fighting skill -- he had hidden much from all, including his twin, but he had never lied to him and could not start now. He shook his head.

"Then I'm not leaving."

Castiel managed a small smile. "Stay behind me."

Jimmy nodded, then they went inside.

Uriel stood in the foyer, and Castiel looked into the eyes of his friend. They stared at each other for a short time and Castiel resisted the urge to ask why. To ask how he could kill so many who committed no other crime than to consider Lucifer the superior Alpha. But he found himself in no mood for rationalizations.

Uriel broke the silence. "I was hoping you'd never learn the truth." He shook his head. "Your sense of honor has always been too refined."

What could he say to that? Should he apologize for thinking unquestioning loyalty lead down a dark path? No, such nonsense should be left behind with childhood, instead of turning into a personal code. In the end he kept his silence. It was an old argument between them, and he could only lament every single time he'd allowed the debate to end without swaying Uriel to his way of thinking.

"Castiel, for the sake of my wife and child, I beg you to let this go."

"I wish I could." He'd never spoken truer words, but it changed nothing. He reached up to begin undoing the buttons of his shirt, in no mood to wriggle free of his clothing as he transformed.

Uriel held up his hand to stop him. "Wait." He reached behind his back then drew out a pistol he must have tucked into his waistband. He kept it pointed at the floor, both of them well aware that Castiel could transform and kill him before he could fire a shot. "Right or wrong, I love Anna too much for her to lose both of us. Tell her I love her."

He read the intent in his friend's eyes and nodded his acceptance.

With a faint smile Uriel lifted the gun to his temple. "Goodbye, brother," he said, then pulled the trigger.

Jimmy's hands closed on his shoulders and together they stood and watched the body fall, the blood flow. No, life could never be the same again.

 **Now**

Dean pulled into the garage behind Second Chances. He'd finished up his daily patrol of the back country so it was time to tuck his baby in for the night. He climbed out of the Impala and gave the hood a fond pat. Beyond his last name, the car was the only legacy John Winchester had left him. Would have made him love the vehicle even if it was the douchiest thing on four wheels, but the car was a freaking classic.

Beyond the occasional road trip to Sioux Falls – which Dean never made if he could help it – there wasn't much need for a car in a town where everything was less than a twenty-minute walk away, but a sweet ride like this inspired a man to think outside of the box. He'd dubbed the Impala his official patrol vehicle, let Ash trick it out with a well-hidden police radio and got one of those bubbles to put on top when the rare out-of-towner needed pulling over. His deputy used the more traditional squad car.

Instead of heading inside and upstairs to his apartment, he went around the building – biggest in town by necessity – and across the street to pop into The Roadhouse.

"Hey, Mom," he called as he walked inside. He was running late today. Not because of trouble. First awesome day of spring sort of demanded a long ride. Still be out there if his stomach hadn't insisted he get some food in it.

"Hey, baby. Enjoying the day?" she asked with a grin as he kissed her cheek.

"You know me too well." He gave her his best pathetic look. "Can I talk you out of one of your chicken salad sandwiches?"

"Could be arranged. Long as you play delivery boy for your brother's order."

"I think I can handle that." He settled on one of the counter stools while she threw together two of her famous sandwiches – his on rye, Sam's on whole wheat.

"Mooching food again, big brother?" Jo asked, dropping onto the stool beside him.

He nodded and gave her his best 'about to impart great wisdom' look. "It's a son's duty, you know. Makes a mom feel all needed even after her chicks leave the roost."

The mom in question snorted while Jo grinned. None of them had strayed far from home, although Sam and Jo had both gone off to college and gotten their degrees the old-fashioned way. Kind of surprised everyone, especially Dean, when Sammy had come back. His brother had just grinned at him and told Dean he'd missed him too much to do the law-school, big-city lawyer thing he'd always talked about.

Dean had told him he was full of it, then spent every spare minute transforming the old warehouse in the center of town into Sam's dream. Second Chances was a coffeehouse, library, used stuff store, and an Internet café all under one roof. It even had an auditorium in the back-half big enough to hold all 367 citizens of Lakota Falls. Sam, Jo, and Dean all had apartments on the second floor. Might have been too awkward in a bigger town, but here everybody knew everyone else's business within minutes so sharing a hallway only lost the three of them a few seconds of privacy. Not that Dean needed it. Coming home to stay had pretty much meant choosing to spend the rest of his life alone. Not that Sam or Jo spent a lot of time dating. Even for two extremely attractive heterosexuals, the dating pool was woefully small and made up mostly of kids they'd grown up so close to that it made everything feel a little too incestuous.

Dad said that happened every two or three generations. Those who didn't come home from college engaged tended to move away permanently. Right now his two siblings were doing the online dating thing and making a lot of trips to Sioux Falls. But so far no one had clicked for either of them. Didn't surprise Dean. Die before he admitted it to either of them, but they were way too special for most people. And hey, one good thing about the Impala doubling as his patrol car – he had the perfect excuse for not loaning it out to siblings on road trips.

"Gabe's in town again."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Duh. Jodi hasn't stopped grinning all day." Not that he'd seen her all that much. Especially given her boyfriend got into town last night. Gabriel didn't even bother renting out one of the rooms above The Roadhouse anymore. Just stayed with her. No one objected. She'd suffered through so much tragedy in her life she was more than owed some happiness.

"Think he'll pop the question this time?"

"If not this time, soon." Gabriel had gone from quarterly trips to monthly during the last year. Stayed longer now, too.

"Joanna Beth, Dean Harvelle, you are two of the biggest gossips I've ever met," Mom scolded them handing Dean a sack.

"Healthy curiosity," Jo countered at the same time Dean said, "Sheriff has to know what's going on." They grinned at each other, then mock flinched when Mom gave them matching clouts on the heads.

"Jo, you'd best get back to work. Dinner prep isn't gonna finish itself. And Dean, you get on over to your brother's with this food before it goes bad."

"Yes, Mom," they said in unison, shared another grin, then both fled before she could catch either of them.

Chuckling Dean headed back across the street, then into Second Chances. "I come bearing foodstuffs, Sammy," he called as he cleared the doorway, and Sam quickly appeared from around the corner.

"Thank God, I'm starving," he said reaching for the bag.

"Not so fast, dude," Dean answered, moving the sack out of reach. "My lunch is in there, too, so no squashing it with your gigantor paws."

Sam gave him bitchface number 12 – _you're just pissed because I'm taller._ True enough, so he did what any self-respecting older brother would do and headed for a table. "Get us a couple of sodas, bitch."

"Jerk," Sam answered automatically, but he grabbed two cans of Coke before joining Dean at the table.

He handed his brother a sandwich and a bag of pretzels, then tucked into his chips and his own slice of heaven between two pieces of bread. Damn, their mom had skills. Turned even simple chicken salad into a religious experience. They ate for a few minutes, sharing nothing more than grunts of appreciation, then Sam swallowed his latest bite and leaned closer. "Gabe's talking to Dad in the back."

"Interesting." While always friendly – seemed to be as much a part of the man as breathing – Gabe normally spent all of his non-Jodi time with Ash, who liked to work at a table in the library area. Ash was one of two hot-shot programmers for Salvation, Inc. Gabe had recruited him back during Ash's brief stint at M.I.T. Somehow he'd not only kept his job when the school kicked his backside to the curb, but Ash had convinced his bosses to let him telecommute. At first Ash had been the one making the quarterly visits, but then Gabe had shown up on a lark during a cross-country trip, met Jodi and the rest had worked out fine with Ash. "Any ideas?"

"Well, he could want to buy a car." Being mayor of Lakota Falls wasn't even close to a fulltime gig, so day-to-day Dad ran Singer Salvage. When they needed a car most folks borrowed one of the fixer-uppers he and Dean liked to work on. Yeah, sounded like a reasonable answer, but no way.

Dean shook his head. "His own car means less Jodi-time." Sometimes for a smart kid Sammy could be downright dense.

Sam frowned. He hated being wrong, especially when he thought Dean might be right. "So what's your theory?"

Dean had nothing, but before he had to answer, the men in question walked into view.

"Boys, you doing okay today?" Dad asked.

They both nodded, glancing from Dad to Gabe. Dad shook his head in amusement. "You go easy on the man," he said with a chuckle. "Gabe, I'll leave you to their tender mercies."

Okay, that was weird. Dad would normally have given them the same lecture Mom favored about gossip – not that either of them didn't like to know what was going on, too – not give them the green light to poke their noses into someone else's business.

Gabe took a seat as Dad left, and Dean's curiosity immediately began to battle his urge to flee. He liked Gabe. Was kind of impossible not to, but the man made him uneasy. Not because of anything he had done, but because of what he might know. Jodi had moved back to town two years ago. Dean had been sheriff for a good three years by then and knew during her time away she hadn't worked in law enforcement, but he'd tried to do what he was certain everyone in town had wanted and had offered her the job. Honestly he'd have been happy to serve as her deputy. She was older, good at her job, and had more experience despite the downtime.

She'd done the polite thing and had declined, taking on the deputy position herself. Dean figured no one was too pleased with that outcome, especially Jodi, who had taught him everything he knew – or at least what Rufus hadn't taught both of them. But she never acted like she resented him or her situation. Not for a single second. Dean figured that made her a world-class actress and couldn't help but wonder what she might have said to someone who didn't live here.

"Nice to see you again, Dean-o," Gabe said with a grin.

"You, too," Dean answered and mostly meant it.

"So what's up?" Sam asked with his usual lack of patience.

"Relocation, boys. Salvation is looking for a new place to call home."

Oh, okay, now Dean got it. "And you suggested here."

He nodded. "Sixteen of us – eight adults, seven kids and one on the way -- needing a place to settle. I think it'd be a good fit."

Dean agreed. Of course he thought this was the best place in the world to live, so he would. And there was only one place big enough to put a roof over that many heads. "You want to buy the Campbell house then." Hence the reason Dad had suggested this talk – he and Sam didn't want the property, but the town was determined not to sell it without their full agreement.

Another nod. "And a couple of other homes. We'd pretty much be taking over all the available real estate."

A whopping three other houses – left over from the days when there were Campbells all over the place and not yet co-opted into studios by a town that's claim to fame was being the only artists' colony in South Dakota. Be a big change for a small town like this. "I'm thinking there might be more to the story than a business relocation."

Something brushed across Gabriel's face too quickly for Dean to identify, something more than the grin slipping from the older man's face. "There is, but I have to leave the telling of it to the boss. Worked out an arrangement with your dad to rent the properties for a few months, so everyone can get to know each other."

Dean nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

*

Castiel slipped his laptop into his bag, then walked out of his office for the last time. The outer office area that made up the main part of Salvation, Inc. echoed with his footsteps. Empty. Like the few other executive offices. It felt … oppressive. He tried to tell himself he was letting his imagination get away from him, but it was all too symbolic for him.

He remembered the early days, back when the software company had been nothing more than an idea, then a tentative program platform run from a desktop set up on his kitchen table. To his surprise, neither Lucifer nor Michael had expressed any interest in controlling his 'little enterprise' so it had not become part of the Clan assets. By the time it had become a major player in the software and gaming markets, it was too late for their elder brothers to interfere. Castiel almost regretted that.

If they'd been any less successful, any more hampered by Clan edicts, this room would still be full of life. Instead they'd been free to make decisions he still felt uncomfortable with. He kept going over and over it in his mind. What could he have said or done differently? How could he have turned this emptiness into a mere farewell party? How could he have prevented everyone else from uprooting their lives to stay with him?

He shook his head. Despite his great love for the city there had never been any question that he had to leave New York. He was the only adult alpha left in the Clan, but he was far too young for anyone to seriously consider him running things when Raphael could do so. Unlike Gabriel, Raphael had always chaffed at the limitations of his second-in-command status and had long ago cultivated the skills Castiel had been born with. Yes, in another hundred years or so, his genetics could win out over Raphael's experience, but for now, Castiel truly believed his brother to be the better choice to serve as the Clan Alpha.

His agreement did not change the fact that his very existence undercut Raphael's authority. He _had_ to leave or risk yet another clan war. So he'd tried to resign and plan what to do next. Gabriel had been the first to tell him he was nuts to think he was going anywhere without his big brother. And if he persisted in such nonsense, he'd put his baby bro over his knee and tan his backside. A ludicrous notion given the difference in their sizes and fighting skill, but he'd looked into Gabriel's eyes and had known his brother would find a way to do it. Andrea had expressed a similar opinion, right down to an over-the-knee parallel, and so they were three plus Lucas.

They'd had one meeting with their senior personnel about who could take over for them, then the next day every employee – all young members of the clan – had announced they were coming too and they could both stuff trying to sneak off without them. When he'd tried to forbid it, he'd fallen neatly into a trap of Gabriel's design. _Sorry, bro, but if you go all Alpha on them, it means you've accepted the responsibility, which means you can't abandon them._ And if he didn't go 'all Alpha' on them, they were coming. No way around the reasoning, so he'd accepted defeat and allowed Gabriel to file the papers with the Werewolf Council. A few other members of the Clan had decided to join them as well.

Four days ago – practically the very moment the Edlund Clan had officially split into two packs and he had become the youngest Alpha in three hundred years, his people had left for South Dakota and the home Gabriel had secured for them. That had been two days ago. Castiel had lingered. Partly to say goodbye to a city he loved, but mostly as a rear guard action. Raphael's quiet acceptance of things troubled him. Technically, between all the murders and the formation of the Novak Pack, Raphael no longer had the Were-population to sustain the title of Clan. Given the Edlund wealth and prestige, the Council had opted against stripping it away, but everyone knew it should have been, making it an odd mixture of kindness and humiliation.

Everything Castiel knew about his eldest surviving brother said he would not suffer such a blow without retaliation, yet he had offered no objection to the Clan reformation, making it the most peaceful severance in their kind's history. A reason to celebrate, not be wary, but something inside him would not allow Castiel to uncoil. Kept whispering in his ear that Raphael had to have known what Lucifer had been planning, all while never believing for the briefest of seconds that Gabriel had a clue about Michael's scheming. Was it all simply love for one brother against the general distaste for the other? Or was it cold hard logic screaming that Raphael had always kept himself far more involved in Lucifer's affairs than Gabriel had been in Michael's? He didn't know. So he'd kept his silence, but had remained here, keeping the eyes of his former Clan-mates on him while friends from outside the Were-community kept watch for any threatening movements against him or those moving west.

"I thought I might find you here."

Jimmy. All the reasons Castiel had told himself why he'd remained behind fell away and he turned toward the true one. His brother stood in the doorway watching him. They'd never really been close, yet they had a connection no one who had never shared the same womb could ever understand. "I wanted one last look around."

"Not much left, but then Salvation was always more a product of your mind than a real place."

"There was always a place for you," Castiel said. "Still is." He crossed the room and gripped Jimmy's arm. "Come with us, please." His tone bordered on begging. Normally it would have been more than his pride could have handled, but he'd have dropped to his knees if he thought for one second it would make a difference.

As he had each time they spoke of it, Jimmy shook his head. "Gabriel is your Beta, not me." It had never made any sense. If not both alphas, Jimmy should have been as strong a beta as Castiel was an alpha, yet, while his twin had the wisdom to serve as a pack's second-in-command he lacked one essential quality of a great Beta – independence. Like Uriel, Jimmy was too eager to follow, to believe instead of to question.

A pack's Alpha needed an advisor willing to challenge a poor decision, to have a mindset capable of assuming command should something happen to the Alpha. Much as Castiel disliked Raphael, his eldest brother had those qualities, but he had chosen Jimmy to serve as his Beta. The conclusion was unavoidable. Raphael wanted a weak second, one he could marginalize and control. He knew Jimmy had to suspect this too, but it didn't seem to bother him. He was one of the faithful and he would serve however he could.

Castiel wanted to shout at him to open his eyes, but did not. Stubbornness was a trait they shared and his twin had convinced himself that it was far better to be what Raphael asked of him than to be a 'mere' member of Castiel's Pack. The irony of it burned. The one person he'd wanted to go into exile with him had refused while nothing he could do had stopped the others from following him. He had no choice but to accept both situations and he'd given Jimmy as much time as he could. Gabriel had texted him that the Pack would arrive in their new home within the hour. He had to go.

He released Jimmy's arm. "My plane leaves in two hours." He didn't ask Jimmy to drive him to the airport nor did his brother offer. Instead they said their final goodbyes before Castiel got into a cab. Nonsense words were spoken, promises of keeping in touch, of visiting when Castiel knew Raphael would forbid it. Their brother's wounded pride would not allow things to remain as genial as they appeared once enough time had passed for outsiders to lose interest in any potential scandals.

With one final clasp of each other's shoulders, Castiel got into the cab. Despite knowing the dye had been cast, right up until his plane pulled away from the gate, he couldn't stop a part of himself from clinging to the hope he'd look up to see Jimmy, Amelia, and Claire taking their seats. Foolish. He clenched his fists as he felt the wheels of the plane leave the ground, officially ending any protection he could have offered. He prayed otherwise, but in his heart he knew they would both live to regret this day.

*

Dean stood with his family watching a caravan of cars and moving vans pull up in front of the old Campbell place. No, not Campbell, not anymore. It was now the Hearth for the Novak Pack. Werewolves had finally returned to Lakota Falls. He knew Dad and those of his generation thought of it as a good thing and he trusted their judgment, but he'd made a point of wearing his uniform despite technically being off duty. Good tactics, really. Let the new arrivals know right off the bat and, yeah, let him meet them armed.

He insisted it was simply an act of caution, while his bitchy little brother kept smirking and patting him on the head to soothe his 'trauma.' Bitch. Sam hadn't been the only guy in a roomful of females getting a lecture on how to have sex with a male Werewolf. Gabriel had insisted on it and Dad had backed him – every single adult (and teenager with parental permission) had gathered to hear the appropriate potential-partner talk. Sort of like a kinky dessert topping for the 'So Your Neighbor's a Werewolf 101' presentation the whole town sat through. Dean had never blushed so much in his life and, given his fear of singing in public while being strong-armed into it all the freaking time, that was saying a lot.

"So, Sam," Jo said, her voice pitched too low for their parents to hear and that couldn't be good, "did you know boy Werewolves can't wear condoms?"

Sam smirked. "Really?"

"Too much output. Thing would burst."

"Sounds messy."

"Yeah, but turns out they don't need 'em anyway. Can't get or pass on STDs, can't get a gal pregnant by accident."

"What about a boy? Can they knock up a boy while drowning him from the inside out?"

Ladies and gentlemen, his loving siblings. "Oh, you two are freaking hilarious." And why was it they were teasing him? "Bunch of four-pawed heterosexuals hitting town's not going to mess with my Friday nights."

"You forgot about the whole 'Werewolf sexuality is fluid' part," Sam said, one of his gigantic arms settling across Dean's shoulders.

Right. While Werewolves tended to choose mates from the opposite gender just as Humans did, they were far less bothered by 'switching teams' when attracted to a personality. Yeah, Dean Winchester had a personality all right. _Clingy, needy, troublesome, broken, worthless._ Gordon's words, but the man had only confirmed what Dean had known about himself all his life. "Whatever. Now, shut up and make nice," he ordered as the newest residents started getting out of their cars.

His gaze immediately settled on a redhead with a too pale face. "Thank Artemis, I was afraid I'd give birth in that car!" she said as he moved to her side.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his hand slipping under her elbow to help her stand.

"Yes," she said with a wane smile. "At least as far as being in labor goes."

His eyes widened in alarm even as they fell on the gentle swell of her stomach. About five months along. No way for the child to survi- … . Oh, right. Were, not Human. Five months was the normal gestation time for a Werewolf. "Kate!" he called out, his voice raised, but calm. Wouldn't be the first baby he'd delivered, but with the resident doctor among the welcomers, he didn't have to draw on that minor skill set today.

"What's up?" Dr. Kate Lee asked, jogging over, then her eyes widened as her own mind must have put together five months and Werewolf. "Shit, get her to the clinic!"

Anna took a step, then cursed as fluid spilled down her leg.

Deciding the lady's water breaking might be a message to hurry this along Dean swept her up off her feet and hurried after Kate. Fortunately her clinic/home was one minute up the street, and he quickly had her settled in the town's makeshift birthing room.

"Anna!" Gabriel shouted, bursting into the room as Kate pulled on a surgical gown.

"'m okay, Gabe," she answered, panting softly and catching hold of his hand.

"Dean, we need to get her prepped," Kate said, pulling on gloves.

He nodded, then gave Anna his best smile. "Hey, I'm Dean, the town sheriff and token gay, so is it okay if I help get you situated?"

She moaned. Deciding to take that as a yes, he helped her out of her soiled clothes and into a medical gown while Kate did medical shit. After a few moments the doctor asked, "Where is Garrison?"

Garrison? Oh, yeah, Ted Garrison, the Pack's doctor. He and Kate had already agreed to share the clinic.

Gabriel looked up. "He's thirty minutes out."

"Okay." Kate looked at Anna. "When did your labor start?"

"Twenty minutes ago."

She gave Anna a bright smile. "Well, then I guess my new partner in crime will get here just in time to say hello to the new arrival. Boy or girl?"

"Girl," Anna answered in a sort of whine, her free hand casting about for an anchor. "Ariel."

Dean caught hold and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Pretty name."

"After … father. Uriel."

Neither Dean nor Kate asked about the father since Anna hadn't called for him. Gabriel had told them enough about the Novak Pack to know it was mostly made up of survivors of some sort of power struggle. Meant this Uriel was probably dead. "Well, you and Ariel don't need to worry. Kate here was a trauma surgeon in Chicago before she decided to come back home. Nothing's going to happen she can't handle." Not really stretching things. Sure, Kate hadn't done much work on non-Humans, but the basic biology was the same across Humanoid species, so she could at least cope until Garrison arrived. Yeah, it was jumping in the deep end Were-wise, but making due was sort of SOP in a small town. Which reminded him of something he'd read in the pregnancy info he'd skimmed after Gabe had said a mother-to-be was moving here.

With his free hand he tapped the radio clipped on his shoulder. "Jodi."

"Here," came the almost instant reply.

"We need candles. One …" For a moment he couldn't focus through his worry -- what were the damned colors for Artemis? "Silver and one green. Hold the stupid perfume." Wait a minute, what was the sacred scent? Shit, he could remember saying something about it to Mary when they were all sitting around drinking coffee and speculating about their soon-to-be neighbors. Oh, yeah. "Unless Mary's got mugwort. And make it fast."

"Five minutes."

"Thank you," Anna whispered, her grip tightening on his hand.

"Sorry it's not more." The Pack was a member of the Achaean tribe and they typically worshiped the Greek pantheon – one of several things he'd learned playing the video game this Pack had created. Research had done the rest. By the next Were-birth, this room would have a proper alter to both Artemis and the lesser known Eileithyia, but for now a couple of hunks of wax would have to do.

"More than we could have hoped," Gabriel said. "Was stupid of me to leave it to Andrea to bring everything."

Dean didn't say anything. Seemed reasonable enough to him for the sacred stuff to come along with the folks who'd tend to it, but Gabriel was the Pack's Beta so maybe he knew better. In any case, it didn't seem like the time to argue.

At the four-minute mark Mary burst into the room. Took her less than a minute to get the candles going, then a subtle aroma floated through the room. He grinned. "Mugwort?"

Mary smiled back. "I got to work on the color-scent combo as soon as you mentioned it."

"And I made this," Jo announced from the doorway, a small statue of a woman in Classical Greek garb in one hand. Like most everyone in town, Jo split her time between two 'jobs.' In her case that meant working at the Roadhouse with Mom and sculpting. She set the figurine of what Dean assumed was Artemis between the two candles.

Despite the labor pains, something about Anna seemed to relax. "Thank you," she sighed through a shudder Dean felt through their linked hands. Less than ten minutes later, Ariel Milton burst into the world with a hearty wail. Mary and Jo had vanished between one labor pain and the next, but the four remaining adults in the room remained tense, waiting for the baby to cry. One second passed, two, then a healthy wail announced a fine set of lungs. She was tiny, certainly no more than the four pound average of Were birth weight, and absolutely perfect.

Hours later Dean remained captivated by the few moments he'd gotten to hold Ariel before Garrison had arrived and suddenly Dean had grown aware he really had no place in the room. Embarrassed he'd muttered an apology, then pretty much fled. Dignity, thy name was Dean Winchester. Crap.

At least if he concentrated on the humiliation of a grown man running from a room like a scalded cat he didn't have to think about the baby. The worst thing about accepting he'd never have someone was knowing he'd never have a child. Sure there were ways to become a single parent, and he knew a hell of lot of good people who could have pulled it off. But him? What poor kid would want to get stuck with a loser like him as the only parent?

A soft knock on his apartment door broke into his pity party. Not that he saw it as an improvement, since it didn't take much imagination to figure out who it was. "Go away, Sam."

Proving yet again that little brothers never learned how to take a hint, Sam pushed open the door and stalked into the room as only someone with his leg span could. "Party's downstairs, Dean."

"I'm tired."

He expected seven or fifty rounds of variations on the theme before Sam broke out the puppy eyes or Dean lasted long enough for the party to break up. He'd managed once or twice, but Sam went for the big guns immediately, hitting with a puppy eyes-guilt combo. "Pack's asking where the sheriff is. I think you're hurting their feelings."

Fuck. "Fine." He did his own stalking though the door, but out instead of in, pausing only long enough to shoot a heartfelt, "Bitch," at his meddling brother.

"Whatever, jerk," he answered one of his sasquatch paws coming to rest on the small of Dean's back. For the rest of the evening while Dean did his meet-and-greet duties, either Sam or Jo hovered. Like they always did when he got in his quiet moods. Made him grateful for their presence and ashamed to be such a bother. Supposed to look after them, not the other way around. But the silence felt close tonight, so he kept them closer.

*

A three-hour layover in Chicago turned into an on overnight stay courtesy of a late-season blizzard, forcing Castiel to hear all about the birth of the newest member of the Pack via cellphone. A gifted storyteller, Gabriel relayed every detail with an entertaining flare that made Castiel smile, even laugh. It was the first time he heard the name Dean Winchester.

Apparently the young sheriff had put Anna at ease while her big brother and her doctor had used most of their energy trying not to freak out over all the things that could have gone wrong. Castiel had known Anna should not have made the trip, should have waited until the baby had been born, but she had been determined to give birth at the new hearth. As Alpha he should have forbidden it for both her sake and the child's, but Anna had not spoken a word to him since he'd gone to her and told her she was a widow and her youngest brother was responsible.

In truth, it had caught him by surprise when she'd announced her intention to follow him into exile. Foolish on his part. She'd lost her husband and would need Gabriel. That this arrangement left her under his rule would prove awkward given his reluctance to further hurt her. The birth place of her child a case in point, but also an example of why he was going to have to separate the guilt-laden brother from the Alpha. For all the humor laced through the tale, both he and Gabriel knew that a panicked she-Were in labor could easily result in death.

"You know Anna, she was all 'nothing wrong here, I'm fine' while freaking out underneath her cool exterior, but in runs these two pretty blondes with the makings of a simple birthing altar. Candles were even scented with the perfect amount of mugwort." He could practically hear Gabriel shaking his head in amazement. "I asked the candlemaker, Mary, about it later. She said Dean had made certain she'd known all about the importance of the candles and scent."

Gabriel told him it hadn't stopped there. Throughout the day things happened to make the Pack feel welcomed – wolfsbane ale on tap in the Roadhouse Bar, silver paw charms for everyone, favored foods on the menu – and each time the phrase 'Dean made certain I knew …' was offered up in explanation. "You know the damnedest thing is, Cas, the kid gave me the impression he felt bad for not being able to do anything himself."

Interesting. "I look forward to meeting him."

"You bet your ass you do. Or his."

He blinked. "What?"

Gabriel hesitated a moment, then answered, "You'll see."

That was … cryptic. And utterly unhelpful. Classic Gabriel in scheming 'for your own good, baby bro' mode. Wonderful. Castiel knew probing would get him no further information, and for a moment he felt the temptation to pull the Alpha card and demand it. But not only would that cross the line into what he considered an abuse of his authority, it would also require the use of power he didn't really possess yet. Certainly he was officially the Pack's Alpha and had been since the moment the Council had given them the right to establish a new hearth, but tradition stated the Alpha keep the … Alphaness to a minimum before taking up residence. So until Castiel set foot in Lakota Falls, he and to some extent the Pack, held only a quasi-status somewhere between legal and traditional existence.

He finished the call, then sat in the bar nursing a scotch and wishing it had enough juice to at least give him a buzz. But without any wolfsbane additives it took about three full bottles before he reached that state. Not something he could attempt in public without someone trying to whisk him away to an ER for alcohol poisoning. He sighed and accepted a long boring, sober night. Didn't even bother to order a second scotch because what was the point? He liked coffee or tea better taste-wise.

Deciding to exercise his sweet tooth, he'd taken the first sip of his favorite Starbucks indulgence when a woman in a business suit walked up to him. "Excuse me, but aren't you Castiel Novak?" she asked. Saying yes led to a long conversation about word processing platforms and viral interfaces, which ended up with a series of meetings on the west coast and a multi-million dollar deal.

It wasn't until three weeks later when he found himself standing on the terrace of his suite enjoying the view of the Seattle skyline and another scotch that he connected his contemplation of another round of meetings with his earlier thoughts about 'not really the Alpha until …' Stalling. He was actually stalling going home like some kid with a lousy report card. Because those meetings he was thinking about? They all screamed a) better handled by Gabriel and b) video conference. Damn it to Tartaros.

Before he could change his mind, he stalked back into the suite and booked the next flight to Sioux Falls, South Dakota then called Gabriel to give him both his arrival time and the information his brother would need to set up those video conferences.

He didn't get much further than, "My flight arrives –" before Gabriel snorted.

"Finally decided to stop running away from home, baby bro?"

Castiel glared at the phone. Of course his stupid Beta would have known what he was doing all along. "I hate you."

"Nah, you love me to pieces and we both know it."

True, but, "I could learn to hate you."

That earned him a chuckle. "You work on that. In the meantime, when am I picking you up?"

*

Survivors. When asked to describe the Novak Pack that was the word Gabriel had chosen. Children, widowed mates, and unmated Weres who had lost everyone to the civil war between Michael and Lucifer – those were the Clan members who had turned their backs on Raphael and the ever present uncertainty of what he had and hadn't know during the killings. What it all translated as was a lot of hurt, lonely Werewolves looking for new lives under Castiel Novak's leadership. Given this, no one was really surprised that within days, let alone the three weeks since their arrival, almost every unattached member of the Pack and the town had found someone to at least circle. Even Pamela Barnes, the self-proclaimed town-slut and proud of it, found herself keeping exclusive company with Balthazar Leclerq. Gabriel told Dean this made perfect sense given Balthazar was the Pack-slut and proud of it. Sort of a meeting of the minds and Dean had never been gladder to not possess Missouri's psychic abilities. Poor woman probably had to wash her mind out with bleach whenever she got within a hundred yards of those two.

What did surprise everyone, except Dean, was the total lack of interest in him. Not a single Were – male or female – had made the slightest move on him. He'd known all along he was no one's idea of a prize catch and hadn't begun to understand why everyone else had gotten their hopes up for him. But one thing bugged him big time – no male Were would get within five feet of him. Hell, if he walked into a room with one of them and no one else was around they bolted like scalded cats. Would be funny given the canineness of the population except nothing about homophobia had ever particularly amused him.

The only exception was Gabe. He seemed to hang around Dean a lot. Kept giving him updates on Pack business and asking his opinion about shit. Really was strange and might have led him to believe the guy was interested except he practically glowed as much as the diamond in Jodi's engagement ring whenever the deputy sheriff entered the room. So that was a no on wanting to jump Dean's bones, and it wasn't that he didn't appreciate being kept in the loop, but it still seemed weird. So he didn't mention the problem with the male Weres to Gabe. Well that and he was the only victim, so what difference did it really make?

"You have to sing!" Jo said, smacking him on the arm and cutting into his thoughts.

"No, I don't," he answered more out of reflex because he'd been watching Jake Talley avoid him despite the fact Jo had joined her brothers for a cup of coffee and the day's edition of 'harass Dean.' "When?"

She rolled her eyes while Sam snorted then demanded, "Have you heard a word we've said?"

"Have you said a word worth listening to?" Near as he could tell Jake had fallen for Jo at first sight. Or scent. So why would his strategy to win her include being a dick to her big brother? Not good tactics. Sort of expected more smarts from an ex-soldier. Even a young one. And why the hell were Sam and Jo so okay with this 'give Dean the cold-shoulder' campaign? At first they'd noticed and seemed pissed off on his behalf, but now they acted like they didn't see it happening. And he knew Jo had gone out with Jake a few times. Last time they'd ended up at her place. Dean had never been so glad for the sound proofing they'd done on their apartments. Last thing he needed to know was what his baby sister was up to with a guy who thought Dean had big gay cooties.

"Dean!" Jo snapped and yeah, okay, he'd lost focus on the conversation again, but it kind of hurt not even his siblings cared about his feelings.

"What?" he snapped with more heat than he intended.

"Someone's on his period," she muttered back, fixing him with her best glare. Never worked as well as the puppy eyes. Sam, damn him, had taught her how to do those and they were lethal weapons as far as Dean was concerned. Never had been able to develop the immunity to them Mom and Dad had mastered – although Jo did manage to sucker Dad from time to time. But mostly his rotten brother and sister focused on tormenting Dean with their unreasonable demands.

"We want you to sing at the welcome party tonight."

He blinked. "We already did that party." Night the Pack came to town. Been a great bash full of good food, drink, music and the sight of all those male Weres running to whatever side of the room Dean wasn't in. But he'd still managed to have a good time. Even made good friends with several of the lady Weres and all of the kids. Loved the kids. Everyone already had him on speed dial for baby-sitting duties and the kids all called him Sheriff Dean.

"This one is for Castiel."

"He's finally going to show?" 'The Alpha is coming' had sort of become the Pack mantra, but every announcement of imminent arrival had been quickly followed by one explaining a delay. Strangely enough the Alphaless state of things seemed to amuse them, especially Gabe. Well, all of them except for Anna. She and Sam's wolfy-girlfriend, Madison, had sort of decided Dean was their new best friend and included him in all their girl stuff. Quickly became obvious that Anna had some issues with the Alpha, but had declined to elaborate.

"Gabe left for the airport an hour ago." Sam stared at him. "I thought the dude told you everything?"

"Guess he forgot this time." Dean shrugged. "It happens."

Jo and Sam exchanged one of those significant looks that usually led to demands and puppy eyes and Dean caving like a snowman in an August heatwave. But they didn't have anything new up their sleeves as Jo once again said, "You have to sing at the party."

Dean sensed a trap here. Hey, he was not only the sheriff, but a man with twenty-one years' worth of experience with the pratfalls of the special hell that could be big brotherhood. Still, he couldn't figure it out. Damn. "It's Friday."

"Yep," Jo agreed giving him her 'all pleased and proud he could figure that out' grin.

"Brat."

"Jerk."

The bitch of the group decided to put his two cents in and said, "Friday and a party."

Dean glowered at the two of them. What was he missing? "You always make me sing on Fridays." Well, them and their freaking parents. Traitors and bullies all. That was his loving family. "So why are you making a big deal out of this?"

"It's just important you be there," Sam said.

Dean's eyes narrowed. His sasquatch of a brother was trying not to bounce like a little kid. Kind of bizarre looking. He almost said something about never letting them down but it was easier to stomach 'manipulative' mode versus 'soft-gooey Dean needs reassurance' mode, so he simply said, "I'll be there."

"And you'll sing?" Jo was doing her own version of 'so not bouncing, but want to.' Damn his brother and sister were weird.

"And I'll sing."

"Good," they both said at the same time and beamed at him.

Oh, fuck this. "I've got shit to do," he said standing up. "Go play with your wolves."

Almost as if they'd been waiting for his permission – he should live so long – they scurried off to make googily eyes with Jake and Madison, who also looked like they were kind of beaming at him. And how did Jake giving him 'please and proud' looks fit in with gay-cooties avoidance? This town was really starting to mess with his mind. Starting? He snorted at himself as he exited stage right out of Second Chances and made for the back half of the Roadhouse. The bar half.

Damn, Mom was playing bartender this afternoon, although she currently had her nose in some book. He tried to slip around her and get his hands on a bottle of his favorite whiskey. She slapped his wrist. Literally. Made him yelp, then try his own version of puppy eyes on her.

She looked unimpressed.

He defaulted to whining. "Mom, I need a drink."

"Nope," she said going back to her book. "I start letting you drink every time your brother and sister annoy you and you'll turn into an alcoholic by next Monday."

True. "Might be worth it."

She swatted his ass for that. "Home, mister. Shower. Change. Rehearse."

"Rehearse?" Never rehearsed on Friday. Jammed/rehearsed on Wednesdays and had since everyone was in middle school.

"Want to sound extra good tonight." Her nonchalance had taken on a relatively faked air to it, and again his eyes narrowed, but he had a tingling wrist and butt-cheek strongly suggesting he let it go because this was Mom and Mom could be one scary lady when one of her kids resisted doing something she thought needed doing.

Exercising the better part of valor – sounded so much better than running from the crazy person who had his baby pictures and wasn't afraid to use 'em – he started backing toward the door. "Oookay, I'll just go … rehearse."

"You do that."

He'd almost made it to freedom when she added, "Oh, and Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Wear the green button down."

He stared. His mom hadn't given him fashion tips since his high school senior pictures. "Right, um, just. Right." Deciding dignity was overrated, he turned on his heel and fled.

*

It felt like home the moment Castiel walked through the door. He moved to the center of the large common room and drew in a lungful of scented air. Old wood mixed with new. History and … something else. Something he couldn't identify. A rare enough occurrence it gave him pause.

He frowned slightly and concentrated, but it remained illusive. Pleasant. Very pleasant. Again the sense of home wrapped around him. No, nothing more than fanciful nonsense brought on by fresh air after too much time confined to a city added to the scents of his family after almost a month apart.

But this place? It was … perfect. A sprawling ranch house with ten large bedrooms and the common areas were equally well thought out for both smaller groups and full gatherings. The land itself went deep into the forest to offer both privacy and freedom, yet the town was a mere minute down the road. And all the while the word 'home' kept sounding through his mind. Something told him all the way down to his bones that he could be happy here. A strange notion given how much time he's spent silently mourning the loss of the whirlwind of New York City.

He shook himself and walked out onto the huge wrap-around porch where Gabriel waited for him. His brother had arranged for everyone to be gone – waiting at some combination grand hall and coffee shop – so he could get the sense of the Hearth alone. He had thought it unnecessary, yet the nervous flutter in his stomach had ceased and he felt far more centered than he had since Michael's death. "You always were a wise man, Gabriel," he said softly.

His Beta smiled his agreement. He slipped an arm around Castiel's shoulders, then subtly guided him down the steps and toward the main road. Stones crunched under their feet and the sounds of insects chirping as day gave way to twilight serenaded them as they walked, but Gabriel did not speak until they'd almost reached a large building. "'bout that wise thing, bro. Been making a lot of decisions for you."

Castiel frowned. "It was your right and duty in my absence."

"Not talking about that stuff. And I've been doing it since long before we left New York." He sighed. "Sort of been keeping something from you I've suspected since the first time I set foot in this town."

Ah, his brother would have felt this strange sense of home too. And would have known Castiel would share it. This town spoke of destiny and the second chances proclaimed proudly above the door a few feet away. "I would never have willingly left the Clan, Gabriel. It would have caused me nothing but pain had you told me you had found home."

He nodded. "Sort of found more than that." A cryptic statement, but instead of elaborating he drew Castiel down enough to press a kiss to his forehead. "No one in the world knows you better than me, baby brother," he said with a sad smile. "Gonna miss that a little."

What? He wanted to demand an explanation, but Gabriel used the moment to cover the last few feet between them and the door, then stepped inside. Castiel had no choice but to follow. The Pack, _his_ Pack, waited on the other side. One by one they greeted him, exchanging a touch or a kiss. Even Anna with Ariel in her arms. Her smile was polite, not warm, but she gave him all due honors when she had good reason to scorn him. It was more than he could have hoped for as he pressed a kiss to Ariel's small cheek. Random recessive traits – often those not seen for millennia – determined the coloring of Werewolves, not Human-racial types, but she had the smooth darker coloring of her father's skin coupled with her mother's blue eyes and gleaming red hair. "She is beautiful," he whispered to his sister and their eyes met. For a moment they shared the sorrow of Uriel's absence without the shadow of blame, then the coolness returned to Anna's gaze and he moved away. Yes there was hope, but all else would take time.

Once the Pack had finished Gabriel gestured to a large set of doors at the end of the shop. "Let's get this party started."

A sense of expectation filled the room. Perhaps they all worried he would not like what he found on the other side? He gave them a reassuring smile, then nodded his agreement.

Gabriel and Jake pulled open the doors revealing a room full of people. Scents and sounds flowed over him. Intense but pleasant, then he caught that elusive smell from earlier. It floated to him on the wings of a smoky-voice imploring all to, _"Oh kiss me, kiss me, kiss everything away."_ And Castiel understood.

*

The only live band this side of Sioux Falls couldn't really stick to a specific type of music. Sure there were some things Lakota Skies couldn't do, but they'd always tried to keep variety in mind when they played a gig. But everyone seemed to agree Dean's voice worked best with the blues and rock. Townsfolk especially liked it when he did songs by Melissa Etheridge. He was in the middle of one of those tunes when the doors opened and the Pack joined the party.

Gabe had told everyone not to stop things when they arrived and let Castiel mingle without some splashy entrance. Seemed kind of strange to Dean. Figured this would be another night of trading 'welcome' for 'thrilled to be here' speeches, but Gabe insisted he was the speechmaker in the family and Castiel would sooner slink off into the night than do more than smile and say hello. So a shy big bad Alpha. Supposed it took all types, but it still seemed like a weird combo to him.

Hard for Dean to see over the stage lights, but the appearance sure fit the shy idea. Dressed in a suit and a trench coat of all things, the guy looked more like some sort of tax accountant than a Werewolf warrior. After a moment the strain of trying to peer through the brightness seemed silly so he turned his attention back to finishing his song, then backing up Jo's next number – she did the Streisand-like and pop-diva stuff. They split the country ballads. They'd already played for 30 minutes or so before the guest of honor had showed and kept going for another 90. Nothing unusual about that. Hell, when they were on a roll, they often played three hours straight without more than a time out to take a sip of water, but for some reason it got harder and harder to concentrate. By the time they finished the set, he'd had to signal for Jo to take the last five numbers. Usually a sign of one of his 'silent times' looming and a cause for everyone to jump on him with 'are you okay and what do you need, baby' the minute the lights went up, but not even his parents came storming up on the stage this time. Damn, this day was weird. Whatever, something smelled delicious and he wanted to check out what it was.

Okay, well, this was normal, he thought as Jo fell into step to his right as he walked off the stage and Sam took up position to his left. "'m okay," he murmured, trying to reassure his guard-dogs he didn't need any metaphorical demons beaten up.

"Yeah, we know," Sam said and started to reach for Dean's elbow.

"Sam," Dad's voice had a stern edge to it, and Sam started, then dropped his hand without making contact.

Dean blinked in confusion. Since when did anyone object to Sam pawing him? Touchy-feely was practically his brother's default setting.

"Your dad and I've got this, kids," Mom said, taking hold of Dean's neglected elbow as Dad moved up on his other side, displacing Jo.

'Got this.' Got what?

"You two go check in on your new friends," Dad said his voice gruff enough to make a suggestion into a clear order.

What the fuck? Was he in trouble? Had he done something wrong?

"You are alarming him," a deep voice growled and the yummy smell suddenly got stronger.

He whipped around, dragging his mom with him. His breath caught in his throat as he found himself staring into vivid blue eyes and Mom's hand tightened on his arm. Dad took hold of his other arm and snapped, "Well, excuse me. Not like there's an instruction manual on all this."

"Actually, there is, but it's still packed," Gabe said slipping up beside Blue Eyes and doing his own arm grabbing. "Shouldn't move so fast, Cassy. It's bad manners."

Castiel – and how had Dean ever thought, even from a distance, that the guy was anything but drop-dead gorgeous? – fixed a glare on Gabe that suggested he was about to flay him alive with words – or worse. Instead, he gave his brother a tight nod, then looked at Dad. "My apologies. This is … difficult for me. Even with so many others around."

Gabe looked annoyed, not so much at Castiel, but at life in general. "Yeah, well, best laid plans and all. How long can you hold out?"

"Ten minutes?" Answer sounded more like a question and Gabe rolled his eyes.

"Oh, great."

Dean tried to lean closer, like he couldn't hear or something, but his parents held him firmly in place. "What's going on?" he almost whimpered because between the confusion and the smell and the blue eyes he was feeling pretty overwhelmed. And he wanted closer, damnit!

Mom, Dad, and Castiel all looked at Gabe, who did another eye roll. "Fine. Short version, Dean-o, is I seriously underestimated your charms and my brother here is about," he glanced at Castiel, who had broken into a light sweat, "five minutes tops from throwing you down on the floor and fucking your brains out."

Eight years. Eight long years had slipped away since Dean had welcomed another's touch. Yes, he'd been lonely – ached with it at times – but he'd thought Gordon had broken his sex drive as thoroughly as he'd broken his heart. Now, the scent of what had to be Castiel's pheromones filling his senses, he … wanted and the words slipped out, "My place is upstairs."

Mom gasped and both his parents tightened their grips. A slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he looked at Mom and pointed out, "You wanted me to impress him." To make certain he sounded perfect when he sang, to wear his best shirt.

She nodded, her free hand cradling the side of his face. "But this is too fast, baby."

Yes, it should be, but somehow it wasn't. "No, I'm … " _His._ He got it now. What the unattached male Weres had silently been telling him – he belonged to the Alpha and no one else had dared touch him. Except someone had. Dean's throat tightened as he remembered all the ways Gordon had touched him and how, underneath it all, it had always felt wrong. Empty. Always leaving him desperate for more. _Clingy, needy, troublesome, broken, worthless._ Castiel would figure it out soon enough, but for now was it so wrong to want this? To have what his very cells seemed to scream was his? "It's okay. I want this."

Gabe sighed. "Ellen, Bobby, I'm sorry, but that's as close as either of them can come to consent at this point."

His parents' grip tightened, then let go. "It's okay," Dean repeated softly, then forced himself to look away from Castiel and walk toward the back hallway. All around them, the party went on – people laughing, chatting, caught up in the usual Friday party spirit. Dean managed to feel some small sense of relief at the lack of eyes on him. Soon enough everyone would know – hazards of a small town – but for now he clung to the illusion of privacy as he climbed the stairs leading to the three apartments.

Hadn't bothered to lock his door, so he pushed it open. Didn't stop walking until he reached his bedroom. Instinct told him if he spoke, if he turned to look Castiel in the eye, the Alpha would rip Dean's clothes off to get to bare skin. Not wanting his best jeans and shirt ruined, he opted to strip with quick, efficient movements. His hands stayed surprisingly steady. Sure, part of him wanted to panic, but the overwhelming sense of rightness kept him calm.

He kept a tube of lube in his bedside drawer for those intimate moments with his right hand, so he got it out, then pulled the covers back on his bed.

"Towel." Castiel's voice made him jump, but he managed to keep his eyes down and his own mouth shut. "You'll … leak."

Right. He remembered the lecture and some overheard giggles about massive wet spots in the days since the Pack arrived. Focusing on the traumatizing memory of his own sister being among the gigglers kept him calm enough to fetch a towel from the hall closet then spread it on his bed. He stood there for a moment staring down at the yellow terry cloth remembering the t-shirt of roughly the same color Gordon had used to wipe them off after the first time. Man had seemed almost irritated – in retrospect the first sign of Dean's inadequacy as a sex partner. He bit his lip, the desolation of knowing Castiel would take him, then find him wanting trying to overpower the sense of rightness he'd felt when he'd looked into the Alpha's eyes.

Arms encircled his waist, drawing him back against a naked torso. He could feel the lack of hardness as Castiel's groin pressed against Dean's ass. A silent sob tore through him. So much for overwhelming urges. Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them away. He'd get dressed, go downstairs and tell his family to stop worrying. Nothing had or would happen.

"What's the matter?" Castiel asked, his voice clear of his earlier struggle for control.

"Nothing," he whispered, then sighed. No point in drawing this out. "It's okay. You can go. I'll be fine." It's what he did – take the hit, then cope. And he supposed it was easier to not have Castiel, than to have him and lose him.

"Go? Do you not understand what's happening here?"

He frowned. He'd thought he did, but why wasn't Castiel tripping all over himself to get out of here? "You wanted me and now you don't?"

"Not want you? …" His tone suggested it might be the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard, so Dean shoved back against his totally uninterested groin to prove the point.

"Ah. Your scent is screaming of distress. It has a cooling, if temporary effect. Now, again, tell me what's wrong while my head is clear enough to deal with it."

Dean didn't even know how to answer the … command. Apparently Castiel took his silence as a signal to scoop Dean up like some bride and carry him to the bed. Dude was an inch or two shorter than Dean with similar difference between their shoulder spans, but Castiel acted like Dean weighed less than a baby. Werewolf strength, not Human.

He laid Dean down and settled beside him. There was an intimacy to it, beyond what they'd come here to do, and somehow it made it easier to admit the truth. "You'll regret this." He looked away from Castiel. "Eventually."

Warm lips brushed against his temple drawing his gaze back to meet blue eyes. "There are no mistakes in this, my pretty wolf."

Now, see right there? Case in point. "'m not a wolf." A quarter-blood couldn't turn. He'd never regretted it more. Not even that day years ago when it had almost cost him his life.

A smile and this time a gentle brush of fingers caressed his face. "Yes, you are. It howls just beneath your skin. And it calls to me. Everything about you calls to me. Will always call to me."

He didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it, but Castiel's nearness, the soft growl of his voice helped him push the doubt down enough to tilt his head back, inviting a kiss. His Alpha smiled, their lips touched. Felt like an electric current zinging through him, but not in an unpleasant way. More like something charged and wonderful. His groin began to harden, Castiel's own arousal pressing against his thigh.

With his hands and lips he quickly coaxed the Werewolf back into a near frenzy. Never felt so desired, so wanton. And he began to ache with need. He whimpered, then moaned when lube slick fingers began to prep him. Surprised him how quickly the muscle unclenched for Castiel and within moments the Werewolf moved on top of him, helped him drape his legs over Castiel's shoulders. "Take me," he pleaded, hissing at the burn-laced pleasure of entry.

They moved together like two Humans for several minutes, a thrust, an arch of the back, the push of hips, then Castiel, damn him, pulled out. Dean whined his displeasure, resisting the hands on his shoulders trying to turn him away from those delicious lips.

"Shhh," Castiel soothed him, getting him on his side, before pressing up to his back as he pushed back inside. "The first time … we'll knot for … over an hour. More comfortable for … you this way."

God, Dean loved his voice, the gravel of it made him shove backward with his hips. The knot entering him hurt, made him cry out at the sharp pain and the ridiculous thought of his hymen rupturing tickled his mind. The notion might have dragged him back into remorse over virginity lost to another, but lips nuzzled his neck and drew him back into a world where only the two of them existed. He could feel the warmth of Castiel's seed flowing into him though some part of him thought he shouldn't be able to. Werewolf, not Human. Dean groaned loudly and came. He hardened and climaxed four more times before Castiel finished.

*

Castiel mated with his beautiful wolf twice more before morning, then once again come dawn. It would be days before he'd feel comfortable with Dean more than a few feet away from him, but at least their bodies had relaxed enough to allow a normal knotting time. Twenty minutes allowed him to indulge the boy's desire for face-to-face sex without hurting him. Not that he minded Dean's love of kissing, and despite even Castiel's stamina having reached its limits for several hours, he shamelessly indulged in the pursuit of those delicious lips as they shared a shower then dried each other off.

Dean wrinkled his nose, an utterly adorable sight that compelled Castiel to kiss the tip of it.

A smile twitched on Dean's handsome face, but he complained, "Dude, I'm still leaking." His hips twitched making it obvious what he was talking about.

He gave him a rueful smile. "Input equals output, my love, and we have shamelessly overindulged."

Dean blushed and an uncertainty touched his scent. Once they knew each other better, there would be other cues of what his pretty wolf was thinking, but for now Castiel could only rely on scent. Fortunately, he was rather adept at identifying an emotion via his nose. "We are new Mates. There is nothing unusual in this."

His Mate smiled, but it did not reach his eyes and his scent did not change. Castiel's mind flashed over exactly what he'd said. Ah. He'd used the 'L' word. Foolish. Dean's wolf was strong, but he did not understand it well enough to trust what it told him. "You are my Mate, Dean. And Werewolves mate for life." Mate. The love of his life. The concept made his own head want to spin, yet he embraced it eagerly.

Instead of reassuring Dean, this made him look and smell alarmed. Then and there Castiel silently vowed to rip out the throat of whoever had made him feel so unworthy of love. He cupped his Mate's face in his hands to reassure and prevent escape. "We have much to learn of one another, but our senses, in truth our very cells already know we belong together." For him, for his people, this was the truest form of love, but he knew it was not a Human ideal and Dean had been raised Human. He would need patience to make Dean see, a virtue he often found elusive. "It is so clear even my brother recognized we were meant for this."

Dean blushed and let Castiel draw him snug against his body. "Is that why he's been telling me so much about Pack stuff?"

"Yes. An Alpha's Mate and the Beta share responsibility for the well-being of the Pack."

He could feel Dean's muscles tighten. "But I don't know how-"

"Yes, you do. You've been doing it all along."

Tension faded into a look of confusion. "But I haven't done anything."

How could he not know what a deep and generous soul he had? "I have no doubt that the people of this town are kind. And that they would have welcomed the Pack, thrown a party and baked casseroles, but they only knew to make the candles, the charms, the special foods because you researched what Werewolves would like, then told the right people what you'd learned." He pressed a kiss to Dean's temple. "I heard your name many times before I arrived and always it was said with grateful affection."

A blush colored Dean's cheeks, making his freckles stand out, and Castiel couldn't resist brushing his lips over them. So beautiful. "I … I learned it from the game you made."

He frowned slightly. "I designed the games to quietly instruct about the basics of our culture." As the other versions had about other non-Humans. "And I know full well what was not in them. You must have done a great deal of research prior to our arrival."

"Some, but-"

"Dean," he stopped him. "It is often difficult to accept praise – even when well-earned as it is now – but it is part of the … job. Otherwise we risk embarrassing those who offer it." He sighed. "Or so Gabriel insists."

A soft smile appeared. "You suck at it, too?"

"Immensely, but I have learned how to 'fake it with style.'" He took hold of Dean's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You have shown us great and well-considered kindness. It has made a difficult transition far more pleasant."

Dean's blush deepened and his gaze dropped, but he answered softly, "Thank you."

He kissed his Mate, using the touch to encourage Dean to lift his own head back up. "Such beautiful eyes," he murmured. "I could get lost in them."

"Yours are like the sky." And that was it. Castiel swept him up in his arms and carried him back to the bed.

"Thought you were all worn out," Dean whispered, body arching up to meet Castiel's as he stretched out on top of his pretty wolf.

"You inspired me," he answered, entering the delicious wetness Dean had complained of only minutes earlier as his Mate's knees embraced Castiel's torso. "If you are too sore, I can avoid knot-"

The heels of Dean's feet settled on Castiel's ass and pulled, pushing him forward so his knot pressed against Dean's hole. "In me," he panted. "Want you."

Helpless with his own want, his hips stuttered into short-quick thrusts working his knot into the snug bliss of Dean's walls. The body in his arms shuddered in orgasm as it always did when the knot slid into place. "God, Cas, you feel so good," Dean moaned, his muscles beginning to milk Castiel's seed, drawing it deep into his writhing body. His poor love would drip for hours after this.

While usually more metaphorical, 30 minutes later, Gabriel once again proved himself up to the task of cleaning up one of Castiel's messes. Salvation from Dean's distress arrived with the scent of orange juice. Following his nose out of the bedroom and to the front door of Dean's apartment, he discovered a tray sitting in the hallway shared by the three apartments. Pitcher of the juice – freshly-squeezed from the smell of it – sack of bagels and cream cheese and a plain white box marked 'for Dean' in Gabriel's distinctive scrawl across the lid.

He took it all back to the bedroom, then handed the box to Dean, who gave it a dubious look. Smart wolf. Castiel had guessed what was inside the moment he'd seen it, but the rattle it gave at Dean's cautious shake confirmed it. Clearing his throat he drew his Mate's attention. "There are three ways to deal with the leakage problem. I believe you'll find them inside."

A bright red blush almost lit up the room, but Dean pulled off the lid. As suspected three items rested inside. A menstrual pad, a tampon and a black silicone butt plug. They both stared at them for at least a minute, then Dean burst into laughter. "Jo accused me of being on my period yesterday," he wheezed when he caught his breath. "So no, just no."

He picked up the plug, his face blushing even brighter. He handed it to Castiel, got onto his hands and knees, then lifted his ass up. Taking the hint, he slid the plug into place, then helped Dean off the bed and into another shared shower.

*

All in all things went pretty well post-'going upstairs to get fucked now.' His siblings were, of course, complete smirking bitches about it, but in a pleased 'happy for you' sort of way that made contemplating killing them seem sort of … churlish. Or something. And Jo's boyfriend, Jake, was all, 'sorry about the whole avoiding-you-like-the-plague thing, man, but if he'd smelled me on you, he'd have ripped my heart out or something gross like that, and I'm way too pretty to die young. Can we be BFFs now?' Okay, so he hadn't said the last part word-for-word, but it was implied.

The other male Weres (he-Weres?) were less 'give me a hug' than Jake, but the attitude was the same. Now that he was safely mated, he was cool to hang out with. And Gabriel? Gabe went from friendly, but not very tactile, to hugging the stuffings out of him. While he was wearing the plug. That Gabe gave him. He'd blushed hot enough to light a freaking lighthouse, but Cas, the bastard, had simply patted him on his ass and left him to his brother's 'tender mercies.' Awesome.

Two days later he was sitting in the Roadhouse having the usual 'Beta briefs Alpha's Mate' breakfast meeting, when Gabriel said something that he couldn't have heard right. "What do you mean I have to prepare a feast?" Full reverse engines on the 'going pretty well' bit.

"New Hearth – which it officially is now that Cassy got his butt here -- equals Hearth Feast."

"I get that. I'm stuck on _I_ have to cook food for a party that is nine fucking days long!'"

"It's tradition," Gabe answered with a 'what can you do' shrug.

"Don't give me that, bitch."

"Technically speaking you're –"

"You do remember I carry a gun for a living?"

"As if. You already love me and you know it. Now, as I was saying, according to the _Emily Post Guide to Werewolf Celebrations_ \--

"You made that up!" Hadn't he? Damn, he was going to have to check Amazon.

"Worry about it. Anyway, in this scenario, Cassy is the daddy who sits around watching football and drinking beer, and you're the mommy who slaves away in the kitchen. And if the turkey turns out dry, the Pack will be cursed for the next nine years."

Dean stared at him.

"Seriously. We take this shit very … seriously."

He stared some more.

"Dean?"

"My specialties are frozen pizza and mac & cheese. The stovetop kind from the box. The stuff with the orange cheese powder."

Gabe stared at him for a few beats, then cleared his throat. "Technically speaking, the rules are met if you plan the thing."

"Thank God," he said, heading for the counter. "Moooommm!"

"Good choice," Gabriel called after him.

Awesome Mom recruited within moments – she'd seen his mac & cheese the time he'd been out of milk and had used water instead – Dean made the mistake of returning to Gabriel for more details. He should have known better because the next part was the real bitch at the heart of the matter. "The whole thing has to be vegetarian?"

"Vegan unless you go organic on the dairy and eggs."

"No meat?"

"Nope."

"But, but … this is fucking South Dakota not …" Dean waved his hand around trying to come up with the name of some place weird enough where the entire fucking town had to go tofu. He failed. Miserably.

"There aren't any vegetarians here?"

"Not the whole town!" he wailed. Really not getting why the Human population had to get into this despite Gabriel's bitchy little comment about all the in-breeding going on. Because no meat? For nine days? "Rufus will stab me for even suggesting it!"

"Try batting those pretty eyelashes at him."

Dean glared. It was getting easier and easier to contemplate a world in which he'd shoot Gabriel in the ass. He'd use a silver bullet out of pure principle.

*

Castiel's Mate was perfect -- beautiful, kind, brave, smart, sexy. And definitely developing an ulcer. "I think you should pay Andrea a visit."

"What? Why? What did I forget?"

The panic in those lovely green eyes might have been amusing to some, but it made Castiel's heart twinge. "Nothing," he said giving Dean's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "But she is well versed in techniques for preventing illness brought on by stress." The woman held a doctorate in psychology and counseled many in her role as spiritual advisor. "She has often helped me gain perspective during unsettling times."

Things deteriorated rapidly from there. Apparently his concern for his beloved was easily construed as a belief that Dean 1) could not handle the responsibility of his position and 2) was crazy. It took hours worth of sweet words – which were not among his talents – and love making – which was if he did say so himself – to not only calm Dean, but to also convince him to seek Andrea's guidance.

Exhausted and extremely eager to avoid such a misunderstanding again, he decided to consult his, for want of a better term, mother-in-law over a cup of coffee.

Ellen stared at him for several moments, then said, "Now let me get this straight, you convinced him to see a therapist?"

"Spiritual advisor," he corrected. It was the term Andrea preferred and had seemed to provoke a less heated response from Dean. "But yes."

"His dad and me have been trying to get that boy to talk to someone most of his life. Results were never pretty." She took a sip of coffee, then added, "You must be dynamite in the sack."

Since he had not shared his strategy with her, he felt wholly justified in both the coffee-laden spit-take and the bright red blush.

She smirked, pounded him on the back, either to congratulate him or to stop him from choking to death – he wasn't quite certain – and told him to keep up the good work before heading off to her kitchen to try yet again 'to make that tofu crap edible.'

He shook his head, deciding he would never understand Humans and went in search of his brother for, Zeus help him, a voice of sanity in the midst of all of this. Gabriel listened, gave him a lecherous smirk that indicated he'd figured out how Castiel had dealt with the situation, but went easy on him when he spoke, "Sounds like you handled him just fine." Of course there was some over-emphasis on the 'handled him.' But given this was Gabriel it was indeed a great mercy. It did not, however, make Castiel feel better.

His eyes narrowed. "You are enjoying dumping all of this on him far too much."

"Yep," he agreed without the slightest sign of repentance. "And before you start, it's not my fault you couldn't resist him until after the proper rites and rituals had been completed."

He opened his mouth to issue some sort of scathing retort, but Gabriel gave his wrist a squeeze silencing him. "I know you're worried about him, bro, but he can handle it. More importantly, he needs to know he can do this."

Castiel agreed on both points and sighed. "His soul is so damaged, he can see nothing of the strong, capable man others know him to be."

"A lament expressed often and by many."

"How do I help him?"

"What you're already doing, Cassy. Love him. He has to do the rest."

"That is not a very satisfying answer."

Gabriel shrugged, then he got a considering look on his face. "It might help if he felt more settled in your relationship."

Castiel glared at him. "He's my Mate." It meant everything and he was getting tired of explaining that, especially to someone who already damned well knew it.

"And Jodi's mine. But I waited for a year to ask her to marry me. Humans go on and on about what the heart wants, but in the end they let their heads get in the way too often. Means taking things slow works best even when it's meant to be." He glared at Castiel. "At least that's what I would have told you if the two of you hadn't been so freaking stupid as to be celibate for so long that you lost all control the minute you got a whiff of one another."

"I had better things to do than run around mounting every bitch in New York," he shot back, never a fan of the extremes some young alphas went to. Besides he'd only gone five months between his last encounter and Dean. Or was it ten? Eleven at the most. He sighed, knowing it said a lot about how lackluster his sex-life had been, even when he had indulged, that he couldn't really remember. In truth, while he'd never subscribed to the notion consciously, his subconscious had wanted to wait for Dean.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, something he had a tendency to do a lot these days. "Right. You were a paragon of virtue. In any case, you left out a step before you jumped him."

"Step?" They'd met. They'd mated. What else was there?

"Aphrodite save us, you aren't normally this dim. You need to date him, you idiot! It'll reassure Dean-o and might make the in-laws stop polishing the shotguns, too."

Date his Mate? He'd only ever dated as a prelude to sex, not a lifetime together. "How in Tartaros do I do that?"

Gabriel sighed. "You'll think of something."

*

When Dean arrived, Andrea was already working with someone. Sam. Instead of being all properly embarrassed by getting caught consorting with a priestess-shrink in the performance of her duties, his brother grinned at him. "Hey, Dean! Andrea is helping me learn how to wolf-out!"

What? But – "We're only a quarter-wolf, we can't turn," he said, repeating 'the party line,' but giving Andrea a questioning look.

She smiled. "Sometimes when an inner-wolf is what we call 'near the surface' and the person's will is strong, it can be coaxed into manifesting."

Dean found himself caught between a heart-felt 'that's great, Sammy,' and an all too familiar pity party. Before he could speak or pout she added, "I believe I can guide you through the process as well."

He felt a moment's elation before reality set in. Yes, Cas had said his inner-wolf was strong, but Dean doubted he had the 'strong-will' part of the equation.

She gave him a gentle smile, almost as if she'd read his mind. "Beyond this goal, the techniques are very similar to the meditations used to calm the spirit." Oh, so not so much mind-reading as Cas calling her with a warning he was sending his basket-case of a Mate her way. Which meant he'd probably known she'd spring the 'in touch with the wolf' shit on him too. Yet another in a long list of things people wanted for him, yet he was destined to fail to achieve. Awesome. He sighed. Cas would expect him to try and Sam was giving him the puppy eyes of doom, so fuck. "I'll try."

*

Dating Dean proved highly problematic. First, the only real place to take someone out in Lakota Falls was the Roadhouse. Given this was also where they ate three-fourths of their meals anyway it was impossible to deepen the meaning of the invitation. This consigned romantic encounters to their alone time.

Castiel tried his best. He bought Dean things – favored candy and a Matchbox special edition of the '67 Impala. He gave him a massage to help him relax, but none of it seemed like dating. These were all things he would have done for his Mate had Gabriel never suggested wooing Dean after the fact.

He'd tried thinking bigger and had bought a fancy sound system for Second Chances with a music library that included almost every piece of recorded music out there. To his puzzlement this seemed to hurt not only Dean's feelings, but Jo's as well. But it wasn't until Andy and Ash also gave him odd looks that Castiel figured out they all believed his gift had been a way to suggest he did not like Lakota Skies. Fortunately, realization occurred during the usual Friday night gathering so he was able to announce loudly – and with some indignation – that he _adored_ his Mate's singing, but it would be nice if he could also enjoy some time at a party _with_ Dean versus listening to him. To prove his point he dragged Dean out onto the dance floor and guided him through a series of 'chick-flick' songs. Dean blushed a lot, but after the first song he snuggled close. Castiel counted it as tentative win.

Finally, true inspiration came when he walked into the Roadhouse to find Dean and Ellen bent over a popular vegetarian cookbook. "That one looks good," Dean said.

Ellen nodded, but didn't look pleased. "Yeah, and it also reads a lot like the last ten we thought sounded good. Face it, kid, we've been too narrow in our eating choices. Haven't got a clue how to get some real variety in this spread."

"We could try 'eeny, meeny, miny, moe.'"

Castiel slipped out before they spotted him with a smile on his face. He had some phone calls to make.

*

Dean looked at the sports coat and slacks Cas had laid out for him. "Since when did Mom have a dress code? For lunch?"

"We aren't going to the Roadhouse," Cas answered, straightening his tie. "And not for lunch." He nodded toward the kitchen. "There's a sandwich on the counter for that. Eat up and get dressed. We need to get going."

That meant dinner in Sioux Falls and Dean had never been a real fan of leaving town for anything. But Cas had been trying so hard to be nice to him he didn't feel like he could say no. Gotten himself so stressed out he'd managed to stress Cas out worrying for him, so he'd resisted muttering about being a 'sure thing' so Cas didn't need to try so hard. Instead he'd tried to remember the lesson about gracious acceptance, but it only made Dean worry about hurrying things along to the inevitable moment when Cas decided his Mate's insecurities were a deal breaker and they became the first 'divorced' Mated-pair in known history. Peachy.

Thought made it hard to swallow even one of Mom's kick-ass sandwiches, but Cas came up behind him and gave him a gentle hug. "You worry too much, Dean," he said softly, his breath warm against Dean's neck. "Relax and accept that I merely wish to take you somewhere nice." He chuckled. "And if I get to show off my pretty wolf in the process, well, I always have appreciated the value of multi-tasking."

Dean let the gentle teasing coax him through lunch and a shower, then into the clothes. "Jodi know we're leaving?" he asked because he worried about shit like that, not because he really thought Cas would whisk them away without giving his Beta or Dean's deputy a head's up.

"Yes. She said it was about time you got out of town and blew the stink off of you."

Yeah, that sounded like her. "So where we going?"

"That's a surprise. Now, hurry up, we have to pick up your parents in ten minutes."

"Mom and Dad are coming?"

He smiled. "Even within the Pack, there is room for family."

For some reason the idea of Cas wanting to spend time with Dean's family made him feel kind of … fluttery inside. "Lead on, handsome," he said, slipping his arm through Cas'.

As expected, Cas took the road to Sioux Falls. Dean would have preferred to be behind the wheel, but he had to concede that it would be difficult to do when he didn't know where they were going. But of all the places he could have named as possible destinations, the airport hadn't been one of them.

Cas didn't stop until they reached the private hangers and a Lear Jet with _Lambert Charters_ inscribed on the side. A stocky dark-haired man in a pilot's uniform grinned when Cas got out. "Castiel, good to see you!" he said, clasping his hand.

"And you, Chuck," he answered, turning to include everyone else in the conversation. "This is my Mate, Dean, and his parents, Bobby Singer and Ellen Harvelle-Singer. I would like you all to meet an old friend and excellent pilot, Chuck Lambert."

Dean appreciated the 'excellent pilot' part because holy shit, they were flying somewhere? He'd only gotten on a plane once before – to visit his little brother back in Sammy's Stanford days. Always been grateful he'd gone alone so no one he'd cared about had seen him nearly fall apart. He'd rented a car and driven back under the guise of a vacation/road trip. And he _had_ visited the Grand Canyon, so not a total lie, but mostly he'd never wanted to set foot in another flying tin can again.

Trying not to panic, he missed the rest of the pleasantries and all too soon found himself strapped in on a sofa next to Cas and the jet leaving the nice, safe ground. Cas' hand settled on his. "Is something wrong, my wolf?"

Couldn't even begin to lie to him. "Kind of a nervous flier," he muttered, embarrassed as well as rattled.

Cas lifted Dean's hand to his lips then kissed it. "Many are," he said, drawing him close. Made him feel like a little kid, but nestled up against his Mate, he found it almost annoyingly comforting.

"Damn fool waste of money," Dad grumbled, cutting through any sense of peace Dean had managed.

Mom slugged his arm and hissed, "Mind your manners, you old coot."

But instead of taking offense, Cas laughed. "Indeed it is, so I rarely indulge. But some people are worth the expense."

Dean's heart fluttered again at the smile Cas gave him. But when Cas looked at Mom and Dad with a fond smile to make it clear he meant them too? Well, that was the moment Dean got this whole Mates-thing and _knew_ they were in love.

*

Castiel had expected Bobby's reaction to showing off his wealth. And he understood. None of this was really his style. He liked nice things, but had never been one for ostentatious displays making it easy for those around him to forget he had a net worth that required two commas and eight digits to write out. However, that bank balance came with a shrewd business mind and the ability to know when to show his hand about how important something or, in this case, someone was to him.

So he didn't miss the older Human's grudging smile when they landed in Chicago to find a stretch limo waiting for them. Bobby might not have a taste for rich things, but Castiel had obviously guessed correctly when he'd decided to go over the top for Dean's sake. Not to mention Ellen's.

At six on the dot they pulled up in front of The Garden. A table with a nice view of Lake Michigan had been reserved for them and he waited with a restrained smile as they admired the view and the cozy, almost earthy atmosphere of the restaurant. Finally they turned their attention to the menus. A blink, a couple of frowns, then Ellen chuckled. "Vegetarian."

He nodded. "One of the three finest in the country."

"I assume you include my other two in that sentence?"

"Of course," he said, rising as a beautiful woman with dark hair and striking eyes walked over to their table. "If for no other reason than I value my life."

She scowled at him, then broke down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Tessa James," she introduced herself to his guests. "Owner and head chef of this establishment."

"James?" Dean gave her a curious look. "Isn't that the author's name on the cookbook we've been going through, Mom?"

Ellen grinned. "Sure is, baby. I think your young man has been eavesdropping on our conversations."

"Guilty as charged," Castiel admitted. "And Tessa has graciously agreed to dazzle us with a variety of her creations so you can better judge what might… wow the folks back home."

"Won't be an easy sell," Bobby grumbled with the air of a man wanting to wail about the lack of steak on the menu, but knowing his wife would kill him if he did.

Tessa laughed. "I look forward to the challenge."

Variety was indeed the key word of the dinner she'd planned for them. Each dish contained only a few bites for each of them, but they kept coming and coming – Italian, Greek, Moroccan, Ethiopian, Indian, Chinese, and Japanese fare as well as foods from closer to home, including vegetarian versions of good old mid-West comfort foods. Castiel liked some things, enjoyed the uniqueness of others even if he wouldn't care to have them again, but most of it was delicious and all of it exquisitely prepared, yet not so elaborate that Ellen and her staff couldn't make it. Well, most of it. Tessa hadn't quite managed to resist the temptation to show off with a few items.

By the time they left, beyond full and well satisfied, Ellen had the menu for the festival planned out, plus an agreement with Tessa to get some of the more specialized ingredients sent to Lakota Falls. All in all, Castiel couldn't have imagined a better evening out. Except, next time, he'd bring Dean's siblings and their significant others along too.

*

Dean was too full to feel nervous on the flight home. Not just with food, although he felt stuffed to the gills, but with warmth too. He snapped his seat belt on and immediately snuggled up with his Mate.

He let the sound of Cas' heartbeat drown out the hum of the engines and tried to wrap his mind around the idea that Cas loved him. Really truly loved him. Despite Gabriel's teasing Dean did know, as did Mom, that things would go fine at the festival even if all they had to offer was one big pot of vegetarian chili night after night. But that hadn't set well with Mom. She might not run the fanciest place in the world, but she had a reputation for putting good food on the table and enough variety on the menu that folks could eat at The Roadhouse night after night without ever getting the same thing twice in a couple of weeks' time. And yeah, that included a kick-ass veggie chili that could compete with a lot of what Tessa had dished out. But like she'd said a couple of days ago, unless someone was talking hot peppers, no one was all that adventurous. He knew she'd been trying hard not to show how much it bothered her that she wasn't going to be able to pull together a Hearth Festival menu that would make other hearths die of envy.

Cas had put all that together and had come up with a solution. Not just because he was a good man … Werewolf – which he was – but because, "You love me," Dean whispered softly enough only his Alpha could hear.

"With all my heart," Cas answered, his hand gently brushing through Dean's hair. "You are my Mate."

Dean smiled. "Yeah, I am." He shifted so he could look into blue eyes. "Love you, too."

"I'm glad." Cas kissed him. A soft, almost chaste press of lips, but one that promised much more once they were alone. "So very glad."

*

The Hearth Feast began on time with utter perfection. Given Dean had guided it to this moment, Castiel found himself very pleased and utterly unsurprised. "You are remarkable," he whispered into his Mate's ear, then pressed a kiss to Dean's temple.

Dean looked somewhat wide-eyed with amazement as they watched the entire town – including many devout meat-eaters – file into Second Chances to dine on the first vegetarian meal.

Jim Murphy walked up to them with a rueful smile on his face. "More than once I've wished some of our friends would approach Sunday services with the same zeal as their steak dinners. But they're all here."

"Even Rufus," Dean murmured in close to a daze. He'd told Castiel he'd been about to go for the official 'on his knees' full-out begging approach with the man when he'd finally agreed to consider it, then had ordered Dean to 'get his scrawny ass out of his house before he came to his senses and fetched the shotgun.'

"Missouri must have-"

"Dean…" both Castiel and Pastor Jim fairly growled at the same time.

He shut up but there was a mutinous light in his eyes that stated loud and clear he'd had nothing to do with this near-miracle.

Given Pastor Jim had known both Dean and, in this case, more importantly Rufus for years and could speak with knowledge versus impressions, Castiel nodded for him to continue.

"We both know Missouri's a force to be reckoned with," Pastor Jim said. "But she's not too keen on the whole meatless-days herself. Her trying to talk him into this would have been more likely to result in his talking her out of it. This is all on you."

A faint blush colored Dean's cheeks and his gaze dropped for a moment. "Thanks."

Absolutely adorable and Castiel wanted nothing more than to whisk his Mate off for some alone time. Instead he offered his arm, saying, "It is time we opened the festival."

Dean rolled his eyes, muttering about girly shit, but slipped his arm through Castiel's and let him guide them up onto the stage. Immediately everyone quieted down, no doubt eager for the explanation of why all this was necessary beyond the vague 'important for the prosperity of the Pack, important to their religion' Dean had given them.

"As Alpha of the Novak Pack, I bid you all welcome," he said, then smiled. "And you do not wish to know how many times I had to practice saying that before I could do so without blushing." He glanced toward his Beta during the gentle laughter from the crowd. "Are you certain it is not too late to name this after you? Milton Pack has a much better ring to it."

Gabriel laughed. "More like my ego could handle it better, little bro, but your mom was a Novak and Novak it is."

He exaggerated his usual put-upon sigh and drew another round of giggles and guffaws. "Very well." He grew serious again. "You have all been very welcoming and have come together with us this evening in a display of solidarity made both necessary and remarkable by your numbers." In a larger town they would not have needed to seek such full cooperation and in a smaller one it would have been far easier to gain it. "Andrea, if you would."

Dressed in the garb of an ancient Greek priestess, Andrea stepped forward and began the religious rites to open the festival. In similar garb, Jo, Mary, Madison and Anna lit candles on small altars in the four corners of the room, while Andrea worked with the larger main altar on the stage.

The focal point was a magnificent piece that had brought tears to Castiel's eyes the first time he had seen it. Jo had created an incredibly beautiful version of the Phidias' statue of Zeus. Smaller in scale than the lost wonder of the world, it was adorned with gold, but substituted marble and fine wood for the ivory used by the Athenian sculptor. She'd done such incredible work he knew he would never find it in himself to believe the original had been any grander.

The lights lowered allowing the candles to blaze brightly as the ancient Greek invocations came to an end. Perhaps due to the magic of the incantations or simple belief in the words, but he felt a cocoon of love and safety fill the room. Only in such a sacred space, could he have brought himself to speak again. "It is part of our traditions that the shame and redemption of our kind's origins never be told in full outside of the Hearth Festival. As Alpha, it falls upon me to tell you the tale."

He paused a moment, feeling unworthy of the task and wishing once again there was some flexibility in this, but while other things had given – language, time – this had not. Before he could falter, Dean pressed close, giving him strength. "Back in the days before your kind recorded time, we were as you. Yet worse. It was a dark era filled with cruelty and slaughter. The worst offender of all was the Arcadian ruler Lycaon.

"Such were his offenses that he drew the attentions of Zeus, Lord of Olympus and God of Thunder. He decided to seek the truth himself and descended to Earth. In the guise of a man, he learned much, but revealed his true self upon arriving at the palace of Lycaon.

"This Arcadian king believed himself greater than the gods and sought to humiliate the divine guest in his household. A prisoner was slain, butchered, then served to Zeus on a plate of food during a banquet honoring him."

He stopped and shook his head still unable to comprehend both the barbarity and stupidity of the act. What sort of fool tried to deceive a god who knew all? "Furious, Zeus destroyed the palace and cursed Lycaon to live out his existence as a half-wolf/half-human creature with a hunger for human flesh. His fifty sons shared his fate, but only transformed during the phase of the full moon. From these wretched things comes our ancestral line."

Again he paused and let all consider the crime and punishment, then, with a sense of relief, he began the story of redemption. "For centuries the Arcadian's performed sacrificial rites of atonement. No mercy was asked for or granted. Then on the mark of the ninth century, Zeus offered a chance to earn true forgiveness.

"To those wild human-creatures, he decreed any who lived for nine years without eating human flesh would receive the ability to control the transformations. Those who not only succeeded in this task, but never tasted human flesh again became the Achaeans, and we were granted the further gift of a true-wolf form. Others fared less well, and while time did indeed cure them of their taste for human flesh, they retained the mixed form of Lycaon. Thus ends the origins of our kind and brings us to this night."

Dean gave his hand a squeeze and he had to smile. "Through the millennia the date of the ritual of atonement – the Lykaian – was lost leaving it to each hearth to honor it as part of its birth. Other things changed, including the nature of the sacrifice. Instead of human flesh for nine years, we foreswear meat for nine days. As must those who would share our lives and our Hearth fires. At the end of the final day, we will all – Human and Were – be one Pack. May the gods guide us and grant us prosperity."

A murmur of 'amen' filled the room, then Gabriel announced, "Chow's on and the bar's open!" With a cheer everyone began moving toward the buffet tables around the room. After the meal there was music and dancing. Everyone seemed to have a wonderful time, as they did the following eight nights.

None of the Weres had said anything – by Castiel's decree – but a being who ate flesh had a slightly different scent than one who did not. He would not have considered the Festival a failure if some, even most, of the Humans had indulged when not sharing the evening meals. But his nose never detected a single slip, and none of the other Weres spoke of such a lapse either.

On the final night when he dropped the bombshell that a Hearth Festival was an annual event, it resulted in nothing more than good-natured groans. Truly they had found a most wondrous home.

*

The wolf jumped Dean as he walked toward the Roadhouse for lunch. Not a 'snarl, prepare to die' sort of jump. More an obnoxious little brother jump that made sure he landed in the grass versus the pavement or street. He scowled at the overgrown 'no matter what sized' pain in his ass. "Jerk."

Sammy yipped happily then proceeded to give Dean's face a thorough tongue bath. "Oh, gross, get off me, Sasquatch," he said pushing at the wall of fur and muscle with about the same results he'd get from pushing on the side of the building.

Feminine laughter drew his attention away from 'death by slobber' and to the corner where Jo, Mary, Becky and Madison all lurked, watching his predicament with evil enjoyment. His only solace was Jo looked like she might laugh herself into a sore set of ribs. His eyes narrowed, partly to avoid getting wolf spit in them and partly to add as much oomph into his attitude as one could get when being mauled by a monstrous puppy.

"Awww," Madison cooed. "It's so cute how much he loves his big brother."

Jo nodded. "Made straight for him soon as he caught his scent."

"Match made in heaven. Cas should seriously be worried," Mary said trying to look solemn and probably hurting herself. Good.

"Mads, get this flea-bitten mutt off of me!" he bellowed, which only made the 'mutt' in question bark happily and lick even harder. Oh, Sam was so dead once he de-wolfed.

She laughed, then did a fast wiggle that sent her clothes flying as she changed into a gorgeous she-wolf with the same exotic eyes. She padded over to where Dean was defending himself, then gave Sam a gentle headbutt before running toward the woods.

Immediately his pesky brother lost interest in assaulting him and bounded off after her. Thank God, although he couldn't help wondering if he should feel insulted over how fast  
Sam had abandoned him. Of course, that left him free to focus on the brat so he could give the bitch the full benefit if of his awesome get-even skills later.

He sat up and glared at Jo, who instantly stopped laughing. "Uh oh," she started backing away before he even thought about getting to his feet. "Um, I think I hear Jake calling me."

Becky looked at the two siblings and decided, "I think he's with Chuck." In a swirl of blonde hair, the two fled like the wise cowards they were. Such was the incredible power of the big brother he seldom had to actually do anything these days. The right look and little ones scurried away to spend hours worrying about what he would or wouldn't do. So revenge achieved without committing some 'crime' that would earn him a head clout from Mom.

"You going to kill me?" Mary asked, helping him to his feet.

"I'm considering it." He'd always liked Mary, sometimes figured he'd have fallen in love with her if he'd had any interest in women. Instead they were fairly good friends even if she was Jo's BFF. And Becky's. The Terrible Trio, now a quartet since Madison had hit town. "If I chase the others down, I'll miss lunch and I'm starving."

She laughed. "I don't know whether or not to admire your reasoning or worry about how lazy the sheriff is."

There was a quiet edge in her voice that made him fight a frown. Not hard to guess the problem. Becky and Chuck had been dating since grade school, but Jo and Mary had always been in it together when it came to too many lonely weekends. Fast as things were moving around here, Jo would soon join Becky in the engaged-lady category. Madison, too. "I think you should buy me a cup of coffee to apologize for laughing in my time of need," he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders. "Then to make it extra special, you can listen to me whine about it not being fair Sam's meditated himself into a fur coat while I'm still skirting an ulcer." Not that he hadn't pretty much given up when Sam had described it as 'getting comfortable inside his own skin.' Never had managed to even mildly like himself. Comfortable was miles out of his league.

She gave him a soft smile. "Sort of sounds like a distraction."

No point in denying it. "And a good one, for you, you lucky lady, are about to be treated to the full 'Dean Winchester throws a pity-party' experience."

"Sounds awesome. But I want ice cream. And hot fudge. Lots of hot fudge."

"I'll even spring for whipped cream and nuts."

"Deal."

Before they could take two steps, a car screeched around the corner, then barreled right at them.

*

"I dunno, man," Ash said with a shake of his head. "I'm not sure anyone wants to buy a game where the Grim Reaper is a good guy."

Castiel sighed. "There is no such being. And a Reaper is merely a species more attuned to the dead than others. They are often called upon to guide lost souls to their final resting place."

"They carry scythes?"

Jake laughed. "Cas, my man, you need to introduce our friend here to Tessa." He clapped Ash on the back. "One look at the hotness that is Tessa James and you'll forget all about skeletons in dark robes."

"Hot? Like that chick in _Ghost Whisperer?"_

"More BAMF than fawn-eyes, but yeah," he said, leading his fellow programmer off to work their magic. Castiel could only hope he would not owe Tessa an apology after the game hit the market. He still hadn't appeased Crowley after the fiasco of the first edition of _Salvation: Vampires._ Although he still maintained it was far from his fault that Vampires were such a closed-mouthed species that they not only had a set of myths and legends to confuse Humans, but a second to hide their true nature from everyone else as well.

"I know that look," Gabriel said walking into the room. "Do I need to send Crowley another bottle of scotch?"

"I believe Tessa prefers beer."

"Always did like her best, and I take it this means we're going ahead with the plan to 'gamify' the Reapers."

"Yes, I –" A spike of fear shot through his awareness of Dean, and in an instant he transformed and raced out the door with Gabriel but a few paces behind him. An Alpha in full flight caught everyone's attention and the adult Weres they passed instantly transformed, then fell into formation behind him.

He heard a Human female scream – Mary Sayles – the crash of metal impacting with force. His sense of Dean did not diminish, but the fear transformed into focused energy. His run did not slow for so much of a fraction of a second, but inwardly he sighed with relief. His Mate was unharmed. That much he knew.

Rounding the corner onto the main street, he saw the wreck. The remains of a black mid-sized car had smashed into the waist-high wall surrounding the parking lot serving the shopping area. Mary was getting to her feet, looking somewhat dazed as though she'd been thrown out of the way, while Dean had already reached the wreck. With a muttered, "Son of a bitch," he pulled at the crumbled frame of the least damaged door. With a screech of metal it gave way.

Even as he returned to his Human form, Castiel's mind translated the scents. Blood. Were. Familiar. … Bela, John, Adam and Ava.

The clinic only a few feet across the street, Kate and Garrison reached Dean only seconds after Castiel. Dean stepped aside and into Castiel's arms. "They need room to work," his Mate whispered into his ear, quelling his need to move closer, to interfere without anyone realizing Dean was doing more than reassuring him he was well.

He hugged Dean close, drawing in his scent to block out the blood. So much blood. Too much.

"Cassy?" Gabriel took form to his right, while Anna drew up into her Human height to his left.

He shook his head. One blood scent overpowered all. Ava. She would not make it. He was not a doctor, but he was a predator at heart and knew when death drew too near to escape. And if transforming would have saved her, her body would already have turned. That meant she'd fought as a wolf, been mortally injured, turned, then sustained the killing wound in Human-form. The other three remained unconscious and Human, indicating similar fates to Ava's while they were wolves.

Dean seemed to put it together as well, for when he drew back, he was every inch the protector of this town. "Set up a perimeter," he ordered the gathering of Humans and Weres. "Gather all non-combatants in Second Chances."

Garrison climbed out of the car with a grim look. "We've done all we can until we get them out."

For Dean and four adult Weres freeing trapped flesh from metal proved no great challenge. Dean took Ava's body to the back room, while leaving the others to focus on the living.

"This makes no sense," Gabriel said as they watched the two doctors work at stabilizing multiple injuries enough for Were-healing to do the rest.

No, it did not. Not outside of full-out war, and such a thing had not happened among their kind for almost 300 years. "I need answers," he said moving to the door. Once outside, he transformed, then ran back to his abandoned clothes and cell. The number he needed was in his contacts under 'C.'

"It's about time you called, darling," Fergus McLeod answered after the second ring.

"I'm not in the mood, Crowley," he said, using the Vampire's favored middle name. "Four of my cousins just arrived. One dead, three near it. What in Zeus' name is going on?"

A heavy sigh, then, "I'm sorry, Cassy, I didn't know it had gotten that far or I would have called myself."

"What?"

"A lot of your former Clan leaving town coupled with even more rumor. Believe it or not, word is that Raphael has merged the Clan with what remains of Azazel's pack."

His eyes widened. Lycaon and Achaean packs had never shared a hearth. Even when one type of Were married the other, each remained a member of their own pack. And even such individual joinings were extremely rare. "You cannot be serious."

"I wish I wasn't but your lot turning up bloodied suggests there is more truth to the notion than I ever dreamed. And it would explain why those who pledged their loyalty to dear Raphael are abandoning him with such haste."

Yes, it did.

"And my twin? What of Jimmy and his family?"

"Among the first to leave. And without Raphael's permission. I thought they'd be with you by now. One of the reasons I hadn't called. I do so hate spoiling a surprise."

For once he did not appreciate his friend's sense of drama. If he had known … And damnit to Tartaros why hadn't Jimmy called him? For a Beta to leave without permission was an act akin to treason. Perhaps that in itself was the answer. They were not close enough for Jimmy to assume welcome when running for his life, but he should have at least sent Amelia and Claire to him. No matter what the state of their relationship, Jimmy had to have known that Castiel would protect them with his life.

"And the Council?"

"Again, nothing more than rumor. But they were supposed to be in the midst of leveling a death sentence on poor James when they were rocked by the news of the 'merger.' They went into one of their infamous 'considering the situation' modes. Not a word from them since – about it or James."

He sighed. Even more unsettled than when he'd known nothing. "Thank you. Please keep me appraised of any changes."

"Oh, I will. The same."

"Agreed."

"And Cassy?"

"Yes?"

"The brown stuff is hitting the fan to spectacular effect. Do nothing foolish to make it worse."

Foolish as in head for New York to find answers and hopefully his brother along the way. In direct violation of his exile. Yes, that would certainly make things worse. "We will speak again soon." In person. For while Jimmy might doubt them, Castiel knew his duty and he could not forsake his brother.

Or at least that was his plan, but in the minutes it took for him to dress and return to the clinic, Crowley had apparently been busy calling Gabriel, who met him just outside the door. "Absolutely not."

He did not bother to pretend he didn't know what Gabriel was talking about. "I must."

"No, you must not. All of us took an oath before the Council not to return to New York for nine years, and then not without Raphael's consent. To the Council, Cassy. Not Raphael. Nothing he has done will save any of us if we break it."

"My twin, his wife and my niece are out there somewhere between here and that accursed city. I _must_ find him. For Zeus' sake, Claire is still officially my heir!" Had all gone well, she would have chosen which group to serve once she'd reached adulthood. But now? He might have outlived her. The thought made his heart ache and he needed to go to her, even if it turned out all he could do was give her and her parents a proper resting place.

"I know, but none of us can buck the Council and survive. Worse, they might decide to get pissy and destroy this town. None of us can go or interfere in Clan business."

"I can." Dean's voice made them both start, then flush. It was supposed to be impossible to sneak up on a Were, but they'd been too focused in their battle of wills to notice his approach. "I've been studying your charter and it doesn't say anything about new members. I never sore an oath, and if I'm your Mate, they're my family too."

Castiel said no. He argued against it for almost an hour, but in the end? It was the only possible answer.

*

Dean parked the rental four blocks away from a motel on the outskirts of Cincinnati, Ohio. It was the sort of place that tended to charge by the hour and not where anyone would expect to find a family. A good choice in that regard, but he'd found it all too easily. Castiel's twin had failed to alter the pattern and had stayed at one too many places like it, making it far too simple to follow his trail from New York to here.

He'd used his badge and an informal network of those in law enforcement aware they served and protected more than Humans. Their sort kept their eyes open for anything strange as well as illegal. And a family of three checking into the Happy Inn around dawn came under the heading of strange.

He got out of the car, then chambered a round into his Colt while he watched Jo climb out of the backseat. She picked up a shotgun. Better for distance. He was going to end up in close quarters. "Five minutes. No sooner."

She scowled, not liking at all being left behind, but it was a new moon phase and she couldn't see in the dark as well as a Winchester. Made her the logical choice to drive the getaway car. "Just get in and out with your ass in one piece. Mom'll ground me if anything happens to you two losers."

"Sucks to be you," Sam answered from the other side of the car.

"Bitch."

"Brat."

Dean rolled his eyes wondering yet again why he'd let the two of them come along. Other than they were both bad-ass in a fight. "And what's your job, Gigantor?"

Sam gave him bitchface 6 – _we've already been over this a million times_ – but answered, "Pick a species, stick to it so I don't get caught out mid-transformation and watch your ass. Even if it is all saggy and old."

"You wish your ass looked this good, bitch."

"In your dreams, jerk."

Jo touched Dean's arm, and he leaned down to hug her. "We'll be okay," he told her.

She nodded and gave Sam a similar hug. She turned her big eyes on Dean and asked the question neither of them had voiced. "We going to find anyone alive?"

"Probably not," he admitted. Way too easy to track between the crap motels and paying for a string of even crappier cars with cash. At worst it was a trap and they had to spring it to make certain no one else did. At best, they'd be collecting bodies. "But we can take them home."

Sam opted to stay in his Human form. "I know how to fight like this, and this," he held up the Taurus he favored when the shit hit the fan, "tends to trump teeth anyway."

"Hold that thought," Dean muttered and led the way into the night-shrouded streets. Number of lights burnt or shot out in this area didn't increase his comfort level at all, but anyone waiting expected four-footed visitors, not armed men who could see in the dark as well as they could.

The first attack came a moment after they moved into sight of the motel. A snarling figure lunging out of an alleyway. Dean shot the bastard in the chest, his silenced gun a cough in the stillness. Would have sounded like a cannon's roar to a Were but it would keep Humans out of this. Been easier if he could have called in the locals, but that was one of the rules covering even new members of any pack – no outsiders. Fucking inconvenient.

He and Sam split up, approaching from opposite sides of the parking lot. Even if they hadn't already known the room number, the scent of blood and bowel would have led them to it. _I'm sorry, Cas._

Sam picked off another Lycaon as she leapt at them from the rooftop. Lycaon, not Achaean. Whatever had happened, Raphael hadn't ordered his own to hunt Cas' twin down. Ignorance or deniability? No way to know, but from what he'd heard about Raph, he guessed the bitch was in it up to his neck.

He nodded toward the room's window, then took up position to the left of the door, while Sam covered the obvious route for a 'surprise' attack. He rattled the doorknob and the next moment a figure hurtled through the glass. Dean left it for Sam to handle and jumped through the handy new entrance, he fired as he landed, sending two to Were-hell. Closet stood open, bathroom door had been kicked in. Nothing else in the room, but two bodies. A woman with light-hair and a man who looked so much like Cas, Dean's stomach roiled. Both had been disemboweled and had bled out. "Bastards," he hissed.

"Dean?"

"All clear in here, Sammy," he sighed, pushing open the door. "But we need the body bags."

"Shit. I was hoping …"

Dean dropped down on one knee and hope stirred. "Claire's not here."

"Parents must have given her enough time to get away."

He nodded, then once again he and Sam split up. Near the room all the blood made it next to impossible to isolate the girl's scent, but on the edge of the parking lot the acrid copper smell gave way to something similar to Cas'. Had to be his niece. He tapped the Blue Tooth in his ear. "Found it. Heading west." Toward a wooded area about ten miles off. "And don't underestimate the power of a terrified wolf. No matter how young." Let alone anyone else following.

He got duo renditions of 'coming your way' as he swapped out the clip in his gun. The other wasn't empty, but now was not the time to push it. Given the smell of the bodies, the attack had happened a couple of hours ago, but he was counting on Claire not only making for the tree line, but reaching it and hiding out until she could find some way to get help.

The scent trail led him through the final edges of the city and, as expected, to the trees flirting with the label of small forest. He tried not to think about all the shit that could go wrong in places like this, especially the last time he'd followed a young girl in need of rescue. Seriously did not want to go through that again.

So intent on following the logic and inevitability of her destination, he almost missed her change in direction. He'd reached a small stream and knew if she had any brains at all she'd stay in the water for a time before heading deeper into the woods, but a gust of wind from the east carried her scent to him and it led him back toward civilization. "Change of direction," he said into his mic. "Bunch of strip malls and stand-alones up ahead."

"All the stores would have alarms," Jo's voice answered.

Sam added his two cents, "And I'll bet they didn't teach her how to pick locks in her private school."

He rolled his eyes. His fucking family was full of wannabe B&E artists. "It's a warm night, she's got a natural fur coat and the freaking roof wouldn't be hard for her to reach."

"Oh." Sort of a disappointed stereo effect there. His two siblings should be writing a Werewolf-thief drama for MTV or something.

"Yeah, oh." Sheesh.

After he moved beyond the first string of stores, he lost her scent to urban stench – especially the garbage cans behind a few of the local chain restaurants. He worried his lower lip, uncertain if a full-Were would have lost her trail as well. Best to assume they hadn't. Either way he needed to table his own inadequate Were-shit and put his cop-brain to work.

Scared, with hyper senses and on the run. Where would she go? If his nose recoiled at the garbage, she probably couldn't endure staying near it, so no on that. She'd want eyes on her as quick as possible, but nothing around was open all night. Six possible strips and five stand-alones not counting the food shit. Now what would open early and attract numbers of people fast enough no one would risk killing a stray witness to grab her?

His eyes fell on a familiar logo gracing the far end of one of the longer strips. Plenty of room to maneuver and lots of early morning traffic. Perfect. It was a risk bypassing the other stores and any unfriendly eyes scouring every inch for her, but he followed his instincts, including getting cute about where he was heading as he got closer. He darted from one store to the next. Choosing deep shadows and even taking to the roof of two places closer together so he could jump from one to the other before returning to the ground and another dodge and weave. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye more than once. Definitely not out here alone or among friends, but if he could make it to Claire he knew he could keep her safe until Jo and Sam could save them both.

He went up the opposite end from where he was certain she was hiding, and crept forward. Unfortunately the building was angled to carry his scent to anyone up here, meaning his arrival wouldn't be a complete surprise for anyone. Not to mention making it easier for someone to ambush him.

On the plus side, this was too far away from the motel for even Weres to have heard the silenced gun shots. Bad side? When the two Lycaons rushed him he had no other option than to shoot and draw everyone's attention to this particular roof. Fuck. At least his aim didn't fail him and the immediate threats dropped dead at his feet. His 'cover' blown, he shouted, "Claire, Castiel sent me! Team Jacob!" It was the safe-word phrase Cas had set up with her she'd gotten obsessed with the _Twilight_ books.. God help them if she didn't remember. "Claire! Come to me! Team Jacob!"

He was running toward the Starbucks as he called and to his relief, a slender wolf with blonde fur slipped out of the shadows to meet him. He spotted both a decent place to make a stand and a threat coming over the side of the building in pretty much the same moment. A last burst of speed got him to the wolf, he scooped her up as he skidded into a recess created by a network of air conditioning ducts. "I found her and shit is happening here, people. Cavalry time would be great," he said as he took out the newest bad guy.

Scanning the rooftop for any sign of danger, he asked, "You okay, sweetheart?"

A sensation of movement behind him, then a soft voice answered, "Yes." It said a lot about what she must have seen or overheard that she did not ask about her parents. "Is my uncle-"

"Shit!" Two more foes over the side, two more shots, two more bodies. Thank God he had the good sense to never miss. Or never shoot at what he couldn't hit. Two parts one, three the other.

The rumble of a familiar if unloved engine announced an end to the festivities. God, he missed his baby. Fucking rentals. "Starbucks," he said.

"Five seconds, comin' in hot," Sam answered.

Dean counted off four when the first shotgun blast roared through the parking lot. Then another and another.

"You're clear!" Jo shouted.

"Hang on," he told Claire, grabbing her then jumping off the low roof. Had to roll with the landing to keep from breaking his ankles, but he kept her from taking any of his weight. He gained his feet and sprinted to the car and the lovely open door. Together they dove into the backseat and he shouted, "Go!"

"You okay?" Sam asked as Jo peeled out of the parking lot.

"Peachy. Where the hell were you?"

Sam grimaced. "Place is crawling with unfriendlies." He left the rest unsaid, but Dean guessed it had involved a lot of shooting and running – similar to his own evening – and neither had said a word to keep him from worrying about them and focused on finding Claire.

"Great," he muttered, squirming out of his jacket without totally dislodging the girl clinging to him. Once free of it, he wrapped it around her. "I need to let the LEOs know what kind of clean up their going to have."

"I'll do it," Sam said with a shake of his head. "You've got a more important call to make."

Yes, he did.

*

Castiel paced back and forth over the tarmac in front of the private jet he'd leased. The lights of the airport and the glow from Indianapolis grated on his nerves after so long in the quiet dark of South Dakota. He would have laughed at himself at another time. Mere months ago he had stood in another airport mourning the loss of his beloved New York City, never believing he could find a home in a backwoods town. His throat tightened. It had been the last time he had seen Jimmy alive. Somehow he knew not to hope, knew his twin was dead. Had known for a few hours now. He could only pray Amelia and Claire had not shared his fate.

He could feel Gabriel and Anna's gazes on him. It had touched him deeply when Anna had insisted on coming. As with Gabriel, Castiel had been her favorite, but she had formed a deeper bond with his twin than her older brother had managed. Perhaps because Jimmy had never seen her as a rival as he had Gabriel. Ironic given that if anything ever happened to Gabriel, Anna would be his choice to assume the position of Beta. Even if Jimmy had survived. He felt the same churning pang of disloyalty and sorrow he'd wallowed in when leaving New York.

It seemed the Fates had never intended for the two of them to move through life together. His phone rang and he froze instead of lunging for it. Until he answered, he could imagine a world where everyone he loved was still alive, where even a closeness never felt could be created. Except he knew.

Anna's hand took the phone from his. "A moment," she said into it. "Cassy." It was the first time she'd used the nickname since he'd caused her husband's death, and tears filled his eyes.

She gave him a faint smile and cupped his face in her free hand. "Even the worst means they walk the Elysian Fields with Father. He will look after them until we are all reunited."

It was not a comfort she could take from her own loss. Uriel had damned himself to Tartaros with the first innocent life he'd taken on Michael's orders. He turned his head and kissed her palm. "I love you, sister," he whispered.

"And I you, little brother. I've never forgotten that," she said, handing him the phone.

It took a second, but he found his voice, "Yes?"

"Cas, I have Claire." Dean. Safe. And he heard the rest of the message. Only Claire had survived. He took a moment to picture Jimmy and Amelia with Father and the others lost to this madness. _I will love her as if she were my own. I swear it._

"Are all of you well?"

"Yes, I'm sorry we couldn't do more."

"No, you saved her. Nothing else would have mattered to them. Thank you, now come to me."

"As fast as this piece of junk can get us there," he promised. "In the meantime there's someone who really needs to talk to you."

A moment then, "Uncle Cassy?"

"I am here, my sweet."

She started to cry. "My mom and dad. …"

"I know."

"I'm all alone." His heart ached even as he knew his Mate was holding her close as she said those words.

"No, never. I told you once before, when you feel alone, you may always call on me. Do you remember?"

"Yes."

"You have a home with me for as long you wish it and a place in my heart forever."

"'kay," she said, her voice muffled as if she were pressing her face into Dean's shoulder.

"I will stay on the line until you reach me."

"You promise?"

"Yes. Now try to rest, my sweet. You are safe."

He waited a few moments but she merely cried instead of speaking again. He muted the phone, but kept it close to his ear, then turned to Gabriel. "They are returning with Claire," he told them what had happened in the same manner Dean had chosen. "Please tell Chuck we will be leaving within the hour." A two hour drive for those who traveled at a slower pace, he knew any member of the Harvelle-Winchester-Singer clan would make it in half the time.

Gabriel nodded and turned toward the plane. Then he stopped and looked back at Castiel. "I'm sorry." No need to say the rest. For the loss of two good people, for the strength of regret amidst the sorrow and most of all for Claire's pain.

"As am I."

The sound of crying went on for several minutes, but finally it eased then stopped. A few moments later Dean said, "She's asleep."

"I will need the details to make arrangements."

"Sam's already made the calls. A local coroner in the know will make certain they're cremated and sent to Lakota Falls. Unless there's somewhere in New York?"

Jimmy and Amelia had lived their entire lives in that city, had only left when fleeing some threat no one seemed to fully understand. Adam had come around first and had put it as 'Raphael had started creeping everyone out. Didn't feel right or safe, so we left.' John had merely echoed his younger brother's sentiments, while Bela had hissed that the bastard had ruined New York for her and she hadn't thought anyone could do that. That they'd run to him was flattering, but the lack of more concrete information was maddening. "No, those who would have given him all due honors are dead or have fled." Probably toward South Dakota.

"Sorry we couldn't bring them ourselves, but things got hot fast."

"How hot?"

"Between the three of us, we took out 19 Lycaons. Never saw a single wolf besides Claire."

He closed his eyes. He had spent a good part of his life trying to convince himself no one species or variation of it could claim 'good' or 'bad,' but sometimes the Lycaons made it very difficult to keep an open mind. Too often they celebrated the darker passions his own kind rejected. Not in all of time had it made for a friendly mix. Yet there were exceptions, and he knew more than a few personally. And even without them the last years had certainly proved no Achaean could claim the higher moral ground simply by the virtue of being an Achaean.

By the time Dean had finished going through the night's events, the rental car was pulling up in front of the hanger. Castiel hung up as Dean climbed out of the back, a sleeping Claire in his arms, and he did not even try to stop himself from running to them. He shared a kiss with Dean while moving the girl from Dean's hold to his, and she immediately burrowed closer without even waking. He knew there was very little difference between his scent and Jimmy's. It would give her both comfort and pain in the days to come. Yet it seemed an apt description of life itself as well.

He looked up to see a fond look on Dean's face. "It seems you have a daughter now as well as a Mate. Both without warning."

"Life's never been good about giving me those, but I don't regret anything that's happened except knowing what she has to deal with," he answered as they all boarded the plane. "But I guess I can help her with that, so maybe it's even good that if she had to go through this, she ended up with us."

He nodded. "Let's go home."

*

An uneventful peace settled over the town after they returned with Claire. Knowing she needed stability after so much trauma, Dean officially moved in with Cas instead of making him stay half the nights over at his place. Felt really weird to move into a house he'd always sworn he didn't want. But it really wasn't the old Campbell place anymore. Now the decline of his grandfather's pack had vanished into the laughter and love of the Novak Pack.

As a point of pride the town had kept the big house from falling into disrepair. A task he and Sam had taken over once they could sort out one end of the hammer from the other. Saw it as a way to honor their mother's heritage. Gave the place a Winchester vibe too and one Cas insisted he'd felt the moment he'd set foot through the front door. Whatever. Anyway, it wasn't some sad set of walls echoing with an old man's bitterness anymore.

Timing was right too, aside from Claire. Two weeks after Claire's arrival Jake had asked Jo to marry him. They'd started building a house of their own, while Madison had moved in with Sam. "Think it's time you did some remodeling, Sammy," Dean said over the latest in a long line of lunches with his siblings. Even if Jo was currently off doing house shit.

"What do you mean?"

"Knock out a few walls upstairs and merge the three apartments into one big one for the future wife and kids."

"You that sure you can stand living in Novak Central for good?"

"I'm the Alpha Mate of the Pack. Gig comes with my own little parlor to hide from the kiddies when I need me-time." Dean had never known what to think of Samuel, but he liked his Grandma Deanna's style. "All nice and sound proof." Like all of the rooms. Living with the Pack didn't mean no privacy once the bedroom doors closed. "I can handle it."

"Can't fool us, bro," Jo dropped into the empty chair at the table. "You're all schmoopy over Cas."

"'Schmoopy? Is that even a word?"

She nodded. "Means you're all disgustingly in love and want to say things like 'as long as Cas is there I'm happy.'"

He glared. He hated this 'schmoopy' word, but yeah, he kind of was. "Brat."

She laughed. "Just remember lunchtime is ours."

Right. Like he was the one likely to grow out of needing them. Still the two of them had that 'sincere and going to puppy-eye you if you don't agree' vibe, so he decided to head off the feigned pathos before it dumped all over him. "Got it. Lunch with the brat and bitch every weekday from now until doomsday."

"Excellent, because a day without you to harass is a day without sunshine."

"Absolutely," Sam agreed.

Dean sighed. "I suppose it would only feed into your evilness if I told you I hate you both?"

"That would be the beauty of the whole system," she said, snitching a chip from his plate.

"Hey, get your own!"

"Yours always taste better, now what are we talking about?"

"Remodeling upstairs," Sam said, then filled her in on Dean's idea.

She nodded. "Sounds like a good idea."

"I don't disagree, but it seems so permanent. Like telling both of you to get lost and don't come back."

"We've all found Mates, Sammy." She shot Dean a look. "Some of us a lot faster than others –"

"Not my fault you were both slow to see what was in front of you," he sniffed, not liking the whole 'celibate for too damned long to not get hit with it like a sledge hammer' aspect of his love life. His siblings and their Mates had taken a more respectable six weeks to let nature fully take its 'forever and ever' course. Cas said it was rare for so many to find Mates in such a small population, but this town liked to defy odds. They weren't even the only Mate-pairs. John Milligan had waltzed away from death's door and right into Mary's clutches, while several others had found love matches if not Mates. Off the top of his head, Dean couldn't think of one lonely single left in town. It was like two groups that were meant for each other had come together … and he supposed that was a 'schmoopy' thought. Damn, he was going to kill Jo.

"Whatever, jerk," she said. "Anyway, even if we did need a place to crash, there's always a room available in The Roadhouse. So you should go for it."

Dean nodded. "And if we do it right, you'll always have a construction-free set of rooms to live in while we tear up the rest."

They spent the next few hours sketching out possibilities and talking about wedding stuff. "Still think you should pop a better question than 'move in' so we can have a double wedding," Jo said with a pout.

How this led to his being the party pooper in the plans for a triple wedding, Dean would never know, but that was how the shit rolled in his life. "It wouldn't even be legal!" he protested. "This is South Dakota not Iowa!"

Jo made a pish sound, while Sam gave him bitchface #4 – _why must you always miss the point?_

"What?"

"So we grab Mom and Dad and watch you make it legal somewhere else," Jo said.

Sam nodded. "Doesn't mean we can't all have a fancy wedding and reception here."

Somehow lunch ended with him heading off to ask Cas if he wanted to take a trip to Iowa next week because, damnit, he was Human and Humans got married not mated. If this shit kept up, even the word 'lunch' was going to give him terminal indigestion.

*

Castiel was sitting at his desk roughing out ideas for a totally new line of games while Claire did her homework curled up on a nearby couch. He'd let her decide whether or not to return to school this year since only a few weeks remained and she had demonstrated an acceptable mastery of the current year's curriculum to the town's school teacher, Ruby Simms, to pass her current school year. But Claire had hit it off with the tall blonde who looked enough like her to be an older sister and she'd wanted to go with her friends instead of ghosting around the house waiting for them to return from school. A wise decision given how it had helped her settle into her new life.

She still cried far too easily and often sought his or Dean's company. Not that she avoided the other adults, who were all eager to help her through her loss, but she recognized Castiel and his Mate as her parents and instinctively turned to them first. Not surprising since Dean was wonderful with her. He knew when to listen, when to hold her and when to make her smile all without her ever asking for anything. As he had said, if she had to go through this, she could have no better guide than his Mate.

Despite these fond thoughts, he'd put some mental distance between himself and his emotional connection with Dean. He always did at lunch time. The ping pong game of emotions the three siblings went through during a single meal never failed to give him a mild headache. So distance it was. Not enough to dampen any warning of danger – that wasn't even possible -- but enough to keep the need to reach for daily painkillers at bay.

In any case, he found himself unprepared when Dean stalked into the room with his face all red. Before he could even begin to find out what was behind the almost glowing blush, Dean blurted, "I want to get married."

Castiel blinked. As far as his people were concerned they already had such a relationship. It seemed he'd been remiss in considering the Human point of view. Easily fixed. "What is the closest state without a residency requirement?"

Dean's eyes widened, like he'd expected a fight. "Iowa. Sammy checked."

"Then I will arrange things."

"No, Uncle Cassy, you can't do that!" Both men turned alarmed looks on Claire. Had she suddenly decided to be against their relationship? "Everyone will want to come!"

He relaxed. "If they do, they can." It wasn't like he couldn't afford to host such an event.

"Um, about that. …" Dean blushed even brighter, bringing Castiel to his feet and over to him.

Slipping one arm around his Mate's waist, he brushed a thumb along the curve of Dean's jaw. "What is it, my love? You need only ask."

He leaned into the touch and murmured, "Sammy and Jo … they thought we could all … and he has to talk to … ask Mads first, but. …" He sighed in frustration. "We'd have to do the legal shit in Iowa first, but the big fancy ceremony could be here."

Ah, he understood what was wanted. A kiss soothed Dean and he relaxed in Castiel's arms. "Dean Harvelle Winchester would you do me the honor of marrying me? Twice?"

A shy smile appeared on Dean's face. "Yes." The answer required a deeper kiss which might have led to other things, but they were parents now and an impatient voice cut in.

"I get to go to both, right?"

"Absolutely," Castiel answered, unable to look away from Dean's gaze. So beautiful. "Why don't you go tell Gabriel I need him to make the arrangements for a civil ceremony in Iowa. Tell him I said you could help."

She raced out of the room. Before the door even closed behind her, he swept Dean up into his arms and whisked him off to their bedroom for a head start on the first of two honeymoons.

*

The next morning and the first time he'd seen the outside of his bedroom since yesterday afternoon, Dean went for the same run he always did – unless the snow was 'are you fucking kidding me' high. Sure it was a way to work off his love of pie, but the two laps in and around the town also served as the first patrol of the day. Hence the gun tucked into the holster at the small of his back and the cap on his head proclaiming the wearer 'sheriff.'

He nodded a greeting to those he encountered, some out on the same exercise path he followed, others just enjoying a good cup of coffee on their front porches. Be another hour before anyone else considered themselves on the clock, but he was far from alone. In all the years he'd covered this path, not once had anything unexpected happened. But given how his life had been going, it didn't surprise him at all when he moved from Cheyenne to Apache and spotted an unfamiliar figure standing at the end of the street. Big, dark-skinned, non-descript cap keeping his face mostly hidden.

Slowing his pace, he palmed his gun and slid off the safety while concentrating on keeping his pulse steady to prevent Cas from charging to an unnecessary rescue. Didn't mean he was stupid enough not to call back up. He tapped his Blue Tooth – also standard running gear.

"Dean?" His deputy answered almost immediately.

"Got an unknown on Apache. Giving me the impression he's waiting for me." He strained every sense he had, but, "No sign of others."

"There in three."

He stopped, intending to hold his position until Jodi arrived, but something about the way the man shifted his weight made Dean reevaluate the 'unknown' description. Familiar, but how? Curiosity made him take a few more steps until only a fourth of the street remained between the two of them. A chuckle made him come to his senses and freeze. No closer. "Who are you?"

Hadn't expected it to work, but the man reached up and pulled off the cap. "Don't recognize, baby? I think I'm hurt."

Gordon. He did not flinch. He was proud of that, but he couldn't stop a scream from echoing through his mind and he knew he'd soon have four-footed company. Somehow he felt that might be the plan, so he raised the gun into firing position. "What the fuck do you want?"

"What I've always wanted. You squealing on the end of my cock like the pathetic bitch you are," he answered in that smooth, quiet voice that had always given him goose bumps. But this time not in a good way.

The nightmare from his past took a step forward and Dean managed to find the voice to bark, "Freeze!"

He laughed and kept coming. Dean put a round in the ground between Gordon's feet. "Don't you move!"

Gordon didn't. Dean's hand started to shake. He'd killed because he had to, but never when he'd wanted to, and he'd dreamed of shooting this one far too many times. Did he need to shoot or did he simply want to? Gordon had never physically hurt him, but just like old times, he delighted in fucking with Dean's mind.

A shotgun chambering mercifully silenced his inner turmoil, and a voice barked, "Sheriff said hold your position, boy. You'd best do it."

Rufus. Along with everything else, he'd forgotten the former-sheriff lived in the last house on this street. Maybe Gordon had done his homework and knew the man by reputation or maybe he could read intent, either way he stopped and raised his hands. "Just trying to say hello to an old friend, sir."

"Looks to me like he's not interested."

A shark smile. "Never said no to me before."

Dean's knees gave out. Or at least he couldn't think of any other reason why he'd be kneeling in the middle of the street, shaking so badly he couldn't even hold his gun. 'No,' his mind screamed. 'Don't let him talk, don't let him touch me!' But he couldn't get a single word out.

Suddenly a black streak hurtled over his head and slammed into Gordon. Cas. A moment later two other wolves pressed up against him, shielding him -- Madison and Anna – while Gabe moved in to help Cas. He wanted to collapse, wanted Cas to protect him, wanted – the squeal of Jodi's squad car coming around the corner cut through his panic and his mind managed to latch onto one clear thought – the only purpose this could have would be to bring Cas running. Someone else in danger freed a single word, and he screamed, "Stop!" His mind managed a more eloquent line of 'need you, need you, need you,' and to his relief Cas disengaged, moving back toward Dean.

Somehow he found the strength and coordination to shove forward and fall against Cas, to wrap his arms around him and bury his face in the thick black fur.

"Stupid, needy bitch," Gordon spat from somewhere behind them. "You should have seen how grateful he was the first time I fucked his ass."

Tears started flowing, then turned into sobs, but he held on tight to Cas, pressing closer as every pathetic filthy detail of their time together spilled out of Gordon's mouth. Over. All over. Cas wouldn't want him now. Pack would never accept him as the Alpha Mate again. Been a Mate, an almost-husband and father. All he'd ever wanted. Gone. He held tighter, so tight he knew it had to be hurting Cas, but pulsing beneath it all was the certain knowledge that Gordon had come here to provoke Cas into killing him.

*

Castiel sat in the chair beside their bed watching Dean toss and turn despite the heavy sedative Kate had given him. He could feel the waves of self-loathing and loss roiling through Dean's mind, but nothing he did or said could soothe him or even still him enough he could keep hold of his Mate's hand for more than a few seconds at a time. "I love you," he said, his voice firm and loud. "I love you and I will not leave you." It had no more effect than the other hundred times he'd said the words.

The door opened and Ellen slipped inside. "Any change?" she asked, her words hushed as if she feared she'd make things worse. Hard to imagine how.

"No, Kate's done all she could. I've sent for Andrea."

She moved to the bed and sat down on the edge, her fingers caressing Dean's face. "Momma's here, baby. I'm here."

The tossing stopped, but Dean began to weep again, his body curling into a fetal position. Not an improvement. "Has something like this happened before?"

"Yes, back the first time that bastard got his hands on him, but it wasn't this bad."

"The set up never is as dramatic as the explosion."

"Come again?"

He sighed. "Garrison is analyzing the blood spilled when Rufus so kindly shut Walker up with the butt of his shotgun, but I suspect it will show some traces of Siren in his genetic mix."

"Quarter-blood to be precise," Gabriel said, coming into the room. "Rest was pure Lycaon. If you'd killed him without clear signs of attack, the Council would have locked your ass up for months pending one of their endless inquiries."

He would have said it would have been worth it except for the further damage separating him from Dean would have caused. "So he saved me."

Ellen made a choked sound. "So damned good at that. Fight off Death with his bare hands for anyone else, but when he's the only one at risk he's fragile as fine porcelain. Been that way all his life."

"Believe it or not, Ellen," Gabriel said. "That's the only reason he still has a mind left."

Castiel nodded. "Sirens manipulate and compel. The stronger the resistance to the suggestions the more damage done to the victim's mind."

"But Dean-o here has always had the same issues he was trying to implant. Meant he didn't even try to do a thorough job of it. Gave him a breakdown instead of a mind-wipe."

"But why?" She asked. "Why would anyone do such a thing?"

Lore said something along the lines of 'because he could,' but reality usually had deeper motives. He looked at his Beta. "There is no way anyone could have known he was destined to be my Mate. He had to have been initially targeted for another reason. Run a background check. Begin with Samuel Campbell. If we know why this happened, then perhaps we can find out who has enough power to induce a Siren to undertake a suicide mission."

He nodded and started to leave, but Castiel said, "Gabriel?"

"Yes?"

"Is Walker still alive?"

"Hell no," Ellen half-laughed. "Jo and me put two rounds in his head and heart each. After Bobby and Sam got finished with him." Her eyes flashed, every inch a mother-wolf in a protective rage. "No one messes with ours."

"After anyone watching would have seen him leaving town alive and well," Gabriel added. "Jodi's dealing with the body. Nothing will lead anyone back here."

*

Dean fought consciousness with everything he had. Even the worst of his nightmares – all memories of his countless failures – had more appeal than what he knew waited for him. A hospital room? Or some dank alley he'd been dumped in with the rest of the garbage. No more than he deserved, and this time not even his family would forgive him. Not when they knew everything he'd let Gordon do.

 _What? What did you let him do?_

The voice kept asking that question, but as ever his mind skittered over the details. He remembered the obvious things. The fucking. Taking him into his mouth. Not kissing. Gordon never thought him worthy of kissing. Other things.

 _What things?_

Stuff.

 _What stuff?_

Filthy, perverted stuff.

 _Name one thing. Just one._

… He remembered the obvious. … Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Kept going like that until finally something inside him found its way to the truth. The obvious fucking and sucking. Nothing more. The impression of more …?

 _Wake up and I'll tell you._

No. Even if some of his memories were messed up, it didn't change the fact that Cas wouldn't want him anymore. Pathetic, needy, Dean. Never should have wanted him in the first place. Come to his senses by now.

 _Then who is holding your hand?_

…

The voice changed abruptly. _Oh, that is it. Boy, you get your ass out of your head and back to the real world before you worry your momma and your man to death or I'll fetch my wooden spoon._

Worried? To death? Fear spiked through Dean, the sort he could never ignore and he forced open his eyes. Found himself in the bedroom he shared with Cas. Mom and Cas each had hold of a hand while Missouri stood at the foot of the bed glaring at him. Andrea sat cross legged on the mattress a far more amused look on her face. "Hate that fucking spoon," he muttered. Missouri had never actually hit him with it or even showed it to him, but she'd threatened to tan his backside with it since he was six.

For some reason, Mom decided his statement warranted bursting into tears and trying to hug him to death.

He tried to breathe and give her 'there, there' pats on the back while giving Cas a mystified look. But his mate had sort of watery eyes too, and he rose from his chair to press a kiss to Dean's forehead. "I love you," he whispered, then pressed their foreheads together. "Never leave me again."

"Won't. Promise. Now would someone tell me what's going on?"

Turned out he'd been unconscious for six days. And Gordon was … had been a mind-raping bastard who, thank God, had only done a half-assed job of it. All of which somehow translated as he was everyone's hero because he'd saved the day by having a nervous breakdown. Dean never would understand his life.

Took a few more days for him to be able to stay on his feet for a normal amount of time. Soon as he did Cas, Claire, Mom, Dad, Jo, Sam, Gabe, Madison, Anna, and Jake loaded him into a van and drove to the first town over the Iowa border. They got back home five hours later with a shiny new marriage license all signed and saying they'd done the deed. Now they had the real well wedding to plan.

*

Newly married and desperately in love with his Mate, Castiel wanted nothing more than to revel in that and let everything else take care of itself. Not in this lifetime. The conference call he'd requested after they'd rescued Claire finally came through, pulling him from his honeymoon bed.

He gave Dean a fervent kiss, promised to return quickly, then dressed in his suit. Gabriel and Anna were waiting for him in the small meeting room off his study. "Just in time," his Beta said, nodding toward the flat screen mounted on the far wall. "And three, two, one."

The screen lit up and Raphael's image filled it. "Castiel," he said in his deep, almost empty voice.

"Raphael." _Did you have my twin killed?_ It was the only question he truly wanted answered, but the only one he dared not ask. "My thanks for agreeing to speak with me."

He gave the nod Castiel had once dubbed regal, but now saw as condescending. "You are, after all, my little brother."

 _As was Jimmy._ He steeled himself to get through the next words, managing to speak only by focusing on Claire and his promise to her dead parents. "As you may have heard, James and Amelia were killed, but Claire is with me. I beg you to absolve her of any offense given you by her parents and to recognize her as my heir and the future Alpha of the Novak Pack."

Technically, Raphael had equal claim to her. And a few short centuries ago could have demanded she be put to death in her father's place. Fortunately, these were more enlightened times and the Council would not support any action against her. But as Castiel would have suffered a long imprisonment while the Council debated if had he killed Walker, so too could official action by her former Alpha result in confinement for Claire.

"As I have no quarrel with children, I agree." Noted and logged. His niece was safe. Or as safe as he could ever make her.

"And with me? Much has happened I do not understand. And while such matters are your affair and no business of my own, I request clarification. Are we and those under our respective charge, at peace?"

Raphael smiled and Castiel couldn't help but think it must be similar to what a fish saw as a shark closed in. "As I understand it, your number of charges has grown recently."

Yes, by eleven. All who had fled the Clan and turned to him. "I have no grounds to refuse them, brother," he reminded Raphael. "And they are prepared to swear not to return to your domain for nine years, as have all who reside here."

Raphael chuckled. "I think I would prefer they share your more permanent fate. I have no desire to lay eyes on any of their treacherous hides again."

It was excessive. And again nothing the Council would back, but challenging the request was up to each individual Were when it came time to take the oath of exile. And it was a promise, if an unreasonable one, to leave them alone.

"Be warned, little brother, when one takes a viper to his breast, one will most certainly be bitten."

Yes, a viper. "My thanks, brother. May Zeus watch over you."

"And you." Another nod, then the screen went blank.

"What a dick," Gabriel muttered.

"Completely," Anna agreed. "We're going to cross claws with him someday."

Castiel nodded. "He was always one for plans within plans." Sometimes he even wondered if Raphael might have nudged Lucifer into war with Michael. Yes, close twins were not the norm for their kind, but Castiel would have sworn on every instinct he'd ever had that those two had loved each other dearly. "All we can do is ask Athena for guidance." He managed a faint smile. "And I, for one, would love a few more hours sleep."

*

After a few days Dean finally decided he'd wallowed in luxury long enough and emerged from the bedroom to demand his gun and badge back. Kate, Missouri, and Andrea all gave him patient 'but you could use a long vacation' looks. He glared until all three of them sighed and cleared him for duty.

First item on his official sheriff agenda? Figuring out this whole Gordon mess. Of course no one wanted to talk to him about it and more than once he heard the suggestion that it might even be dangerous to his mental health. Right. Because he handled mysteries so well. Fuck this. Deciding there were other ways to approach the problem than getting people who had decided not to talk 'for his own good' to spill it, he opted for a more cooperative media.

He chased Gabriel out of the hidden cellar where Old Man Campbell (really couldn't find it in himself to think of him as his grandfather) had kept the family archives and got to work. He could tell his Beta-in-law had started his research around the time the Campbell Pack came under attack, but no, that didn't feel early enough to him. Weres lived a fucking long time, so he went back a few generations and settled in with a shit-ton of journals. With breaks for sleeping, eating, and quality time with Cas, it took him four days to read through all of them.

When he'd finished everything right up to Samuel's final entry – made a week before the man died – he thought he might have an answer. Not a great one, but sometimes shit happened for stupid or murky reasons. Awesome.

He headed upstairs to Cas' study where he found his husband/Mate poking at his computer with Gabriel at his side. "New video game release?" he asked with a smile.

The two Werewolves gave him a guilty look, but Cas, bless his heart, tried to bluff. "What makes you think we aren't working on some important Pack business?"

"You get a constipated instead of a focused look when you do that."

Cas scowled, but allowed a kiss, so good enough. "We were testing out the new Reaper software."

"Yeah? Any good?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Hopefully good enough I'll only have to buy Tessa a case of the good stuff instead of a warehouse full."

"Sounds … fun?" Although it probably was. "Kind of hate to interrupt playtime –"

"Product testing," Cas corrected.

"Right. Anyway, I've got at least part of the answer."

Immediately he had their complete attention. "Unfortunately, that's the only good news."

"Naturally," Cas sighed. "Let's hear it."

"Samuel's great-grandfather put together a few things and decided there was an unregistered pack of Lycaons in the area." It was illegal even back then to set up a hearth without Council approval, but a group had done so. "A lot of mixed blood." Good old 'great-times-whatever' grandfather had had a lot to say about that. None of it good. Used words like abominations and crimes against nature. Except, "I got the impression they settled the area first and just wanted to be left alone. Didn't happen."

Not a word in all the journals about a major clash, but at least once every few years a death was recorded. Sometimes a member of the Campbell Pack, sometimes one of the Others. "Reads like a long string of retaliation killings. Given Samuel was murdered, I'd say the Others won. At least as much as anyone can when they're caught up in that kind of crap."

Stupid. He didn't even want to think how many times a chance to end the bloodshed must have cropped up only to be ignored in a fresh wave of hatred. "With Mom gone and everyone else dead, they must have figured it was all over, then Sam and I show up." Impossible to know if Olive's kidnapping was a trap for him or had brought him to their attention, but, "I guess they decided to try something new instead of flat out murder."

Forensics had gotten harder to fool and killings attracted unwanted attention. Setting up a mental breakdown would have eliminated him as a threat without anyone knowing anyone had been behind it. "Not sure why they programmed me to self-destruct, and left Sam alone, but that's apparently the way they decided to go."

Gabe thought a moment then said, "Sammy's too alpha. He couldn't run a pack, just run off to join one. You're the one who could keep him settled enough to resurrect the Campbell Pack."

Dean wanted to protest he was no leader, but low-esteem, not stupidity was his problem. Even when they were kids the video game had told them Dean was alpha enough to run a pack, but Sam was too reckless. Of course Dean was less than thrilled to find himself in the same category as Raphael, but those were the breaks. "You showing up must have made them decide to trigger the time bomb in my head, hoping it would make you leave."

It would have. Dean could see it on Cas' face. Saw the desolation the loss of a Mate caused every time he spent more than a few minutes with Anna. Didn't want that to happen to Cas. Or anyone else who'd found a Mate in this town. "Cas, much as I'm glad Gordon's dead, it's got to end with him. We need to find a way to reach out and make peace."

"They hurt you," Cas hissed, sounding more like a cat than a wolf.

He nodded. "Because of a long line of 'someone hurt someone' all the way back to when one of my ancestors drew first blood. Kind of hoping that gives me some say in enough is enough." He leaned down and brushed a kiss across Cas' forehead. "Please, Cas. Let it end."

For a long minute Cas stared at the far wall, no doubt trying to wrestle with the wolf inside him screaming for blood, but finally he sighed. "For you. Gabriel?"

Gabe considered the problem, then said, "There's at least one Were tavern in Sioux Falls. Should be able to get the word out through it."

Dean smiled, but dropped his eyes as befit a beta who'd just gotten his way with his Alpha, not to mention his dominant Mate. It made Cas snort and Dean's smile broadened. A moment later he yelped as Cas hauled him over one shoulder and stalked to the door. "I'll leave things in your capable hands, brother," Cas said. "For now it seems I have a sweet, demure Mate who needs attention."

"Bastard," Dean muttered while Gabe's laughter followed them down the hall.

*

Gabriel and Jodi launched what became known as the Great Lakota Falls Summer Marriage Marathon. They claimed it was only fair given their love affair had led to everyone else's. Castiel couldn't argue with this and thought she made a lovely bride as Rufus walked her down the aisle.

Castiel stood with his older brother, while Jodi had asked Dean to serve as her 'maid of honor.' It seemed the request had led to some air clearing about Dean's doubts over why she'd 'let him' stay sheriff. Her argument had ended with a shouted, 'because you're fucking better at it, you moron!' and a stunned, 'oh,' from Dean. Hugs and his agreeing to be part of her wedding had followed.

Pastor Jim and Andrea officiated. They'd found an old wedding service in the Campbell archives and modified it into a lovely blend of both the Christian and Greek faiths. Everyone decided to use it no matter what the species mix of the couple. Becky and Chuck took their vows the next Saturday. The weddings continued through every Saturday in June through July -- Mary and John; Kate and Garrison; Adam and Haley Collins; Lori Sorenson and Ash; Andy and Tracy Zanni; and finally Pastor Jim and Andrea (with Bobby officiating and Mary taking Andrea's role as priestess.)

The final weekend of July, Castiel took his place at the altar once more. Sam stood to his right, then Jake. Bobby walked Jo down the aisle, then Jake took her arm, as they moved to the left. Gabriel escorted Madison to Sam and they moved to the right. Dean stepped into view. An all-white tux to match his sister and future sister-in-law's gowns hugged his broad shoulders and narrow waist while making his green eyes glow. The sight nearly stole Castiel's breath away.

Dean blushed slightly at having all eyes on him and Ellen gave his hand a pat as they walked up the aisle. Dean had asked his mother to give him away, saying 'she was practically his favorite person in the whole world and he couldn't imagine anyone else at his side.' Both their eyes had misted up at this reference to words she'd apparently said to him years ago.

She put Dean's hand in Castiel's, kissed her son on the cheek then did the same for him. The threat of 'treat him right or I'll kick your ass' had come before the official wedding so she let him escape with only the kiss and a smile.

Castiel had never dreamed of a moment like this, but as he stood there promising to love and honor Dean for the rest of their lives, he couldn't image a better moment. Unless it was the first time he had looked into a pair of green eyes and had found love.

*

Married. It didn't sink in at first. Not when the state of Iowa made it legal or when Mom walked him to the altar or even when he exchanged 'I do's and rings with Cas for the second time. No, it all kind of slammed home when he linked his hand with Cas' as they guided a knife through their wedding 'cake.'

Jo and Jake had gone for a carrot cake with the best cream cheese icing Dean had ever tasted, while Sam and Madison had chosen a more common, but equally-good, Mom-made chocolate-vanilla mix. And Dean? Cas had left the details up to him (same as the other lazy-assed grooms) so they were cutting into a series of apple pies set up in tiers to mimic the shape of a wedding cake. His aggravating Mate (he'd mentioned the whole sweet-deal for the groom thing right? One lousy tux fitting and it was easy street until it was time for the vows) wisely said nothing about this break with confection tradition and expressed his appreciation for Mom's baking skills (which were awesome.)

After having to do everything up to and including choosing between flat and raised print on the invites for God's sake (his reasonable suggestion of posting a flyer in Second Chances got glared down – for the record, the bridezilla versions of Jo and Madison were freaky scary), he felt the completely justifiable urge to smash his pie into his husband's face (Seriously, one freaking tux fitting) and …. Husband.

A grin split his face and Cas did the curious tilt-head thing that was so cute. "Dean?"

"You're my husband."

"And you are mine," he agreed with a happy smile.

In that moment, it was worth all of it --- even the fucking raised type – because after mating and two wedding ceremonies this aggravating furball was _his._ Yeah, he came with enough baggage – a shit ton of it mysterious and deadly – to sink a cruise ship, but Dean could hardly throw stones on that count. Gordon's tampering had shown him the only really pathetic thing about him was that he saw himself as so utterly pathetic. Years of issues to deal with and he didn't even dare dream he'd ever free himself of all of them, but in accepting that Cas loved him enough to put up with all of it, he'd sort of come to terms with the idea that the rest of his family did too, and maybe, just maybe he could stop worrying about everyone trying to ditch him the first chance they got. Andrea called it a good beginning and he tried hard not to think of how much work it might take, but someday? Someday he might actually find enough self-acceptance to let his wolf come out and play. But for now he wanted something else.

"Come dance with me, husband," he coaxed.

Castiel glanced toward the stage where Ash was setting up as DJ. "I don't believe the music is ready yet."

"Don't need it," Dean answered, pulling him out onto the floor and settled into his arms. Then, for the first time in his life without anyone begging, pouting or glaring him into it, Dean opened his mouth and began to sing. And to mark this near miracle, he chose the … schmoopiest Kelly Clarkson song he knew. Summed it up nicely. And he didn't miss a fucking note.

 **  
**

**The End**

 **  
**

**End Notes**

Yes, this begs a sequel and I'm hard at work on it!

And, for the record, Dean is singing:

  
_  
**You Found Me**   
_

_Is this a dream?  
If it is  
Please don't wake me from this high  
I'd become comfortably numb  
Until you opened up my eyes  
To what it's like  
When everything's right  
I can't believe_

 _You found me  
When no one else was lookin'  
How did you know just where I would be?  
Yeah, you broke through  
All of my confusion  
The ups and the downs  
And you still didn't leave  
I guess that you saw what nobody could see  
You found me  
You found me_

 _So, here we are  
That's pretty far  
When you think of where we've been  
No going back  
I'm fading out  
All that has faded me within  
You're by my side  
Now everything's fine  
I can't believe_

 _You found me  
When no one else was lookin'  
How did you know just where I would be?  
Yeah, you broke through  
All of my confusion  
The ups and the downs  
And you still didn't leave  
I guess that you saw what nobody could see  
You found me  
You found me_

 _And I was hiding  
'Til you came along  
And showed me where I belong  
You found me  
When no one else was lookin'  
How did you know?  
How did you know?_

 _You found me  
When no one else was lookin'  
How did you know just where I would be?  
Yeah, you broke through  
All of my confusion  
The ups and the downs  
And you still didn't leave  
I guess that you saw what nobody could see  
You found me_

 _(You found me)  
(When no one else was lookin')  
You found me  
(How did you know just where I would be?)  
You broke through  
All of my confusion  
The ups and the downs  
And you still didn't leave  
I guess that you saw what nobody could see  
The good and the bad  
And the things in between  
You found me  
You found me_

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know this begs a sequel. I'm working on it!


End file.
